


hè mo leannan, hò mo leannan

by exalted_one



Series: all that was me is gone [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Outlander Fusion, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Auguste Lives (but also dies?), Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, The Regent is and always will be a dick, in both the past and the present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-24 21:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 119,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16648526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exalted_one/pseuds/exalted_one
Summary: Two hundred years ago the final battle of the Siege of Delpha had taken place. Akielos won and a year later struck a peace treaty with Vere which had lasted (and was still going strong) to this day. He was currently walking where many ancient wars had happened. He was currently touching walls that used to be the center of the Artesian Empire. What must it have been like? Having Vere and Akielos be not only allied but one in the same? What must it have been like having Vere and Akielos be enemies?(aka the Outlander AU no one asked for)





	1. is our kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> I think first and foremost I'm just going to apologize for what you're about to read. So, sorry. 
> 
> Also, you should totally go check out the other CaPri Big Bang fics (and art) because they're all amazing. I'd love to give a shout out to [@thewriterofperfectdisasters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/) for letting me yell at her the entire time I wrote this monster. 
> 
> Art for this fic is done by [@ziote](http://www.ziote.tumblr.com/) and it's amazing.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @exalted-one and the title for this fic means _'hey my sweetheart, ho my sweetheart'_ in scottish gaelic
> 
> _____________________________________________

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm impressed."
> 
> Laurent's eyes swing up and his brain immediately comes to a screeching halt. Standing there, a mere meter away, is another man. This one has dark olive skin and was probably just as big, if not bigger, than the redcoat soldier. He wasn't dressed in Veretian reds or blues and instead was in what looked like leather armor strapped tight across his chest. Instead of there being trousers to the armor, it gives way to a skirt made of straps of studded leather in what Laurent recognized as very old-fashioned Akielon armor. He’s wearing a half cape made of fabric close in color to the red of Veretian redcoats but just a bit deeper, more like a maroon than that of the bright High Council Red, draped over one shoulder.
> 
> Laurent blinks at him, shocked.
> 
> "Not many pets could take someone down like that." The Akielon continues and Laurent's mouth goes off before his brain can think of anything to say. Or not say.
> 
> "I'm not a pet." They are both speaking Veretian. 
> 
> " No." The Akielon agrees, his head tilting to one side assessingly. "Now? You're an Akielon prisoner."

"Built in the early fifteenth century Fortaine was one of three forts built, the other two being Ravenel and Acquitart, at the very beginning of Vere’s history. They saw their greatest use during the earlier half of the eighteenth century when Akielos and Vere were last at war against each other. The final years of that war were commonly known as the Siege of Delpha. Now, back when they were first built they were meant to guard the newly decided borders between Vere and Akielos after the fall of the Artesian Empire. Historians aren't quite sure where the old Empire's capital used to be, but many sources point to the area around Marlas as having been the most likely spot.”

“With the current animosity between the recently declared Veretians and Akielons these three forts needed to be almost, if not entirely, impossible to infiltrate or destroy. There was even specific training that the guards of these forts had to endure before being placed ---"

The voice of the tour guide fades into the background as a single figure breaks off from the tour group. Blond hair flashes in a stream of sunlight before disappearing into shadows and footsteps echo around the hall, ducking behind areas cordoned off with velvet rope. Keen blue eyes take in all corners and cracks as their journey continues and it is with lithe grace that the figure slips behind a tapestry and into a hidden hallway - completely unseen.

Laurent takes a deep breath as soon as he breaks free of the drafty, dusty fort, and into the surrounding wilderness. Finally, he thinks, a moment of peace. He hasn't had one of those in a long, long time.

 

***

 

 " _Doctor!"_

_Laurent turns at the desperation, away from the man he was currently mending and he scampers over to the free cot just as a group of soldiers bring one of their comrades in. The walls of Ravenel were solid, ancient stone, built by stubborn young Veretian men and now here they stood centuries later, still strong and protecting their people. Acquitart was another strong fort, and incidentally it was also the closest to the Vaskian and Patran borders. Here in Ravenel, they didn't see the same level of carnage that Acquitart is sure to take in, but they still see more than Laurent wants them too._

_The soldier is laid in the cot and immediately Laurent gets to work. The soldier's leg is bleeding heavily, and when the fabric of his pants is pulled out of the way the blood begins to spurt in timely shots._

_"Hold him down, I have to clamp the femoral artery before he bleeds to death." He orders the men and they're quick to obey, grabbing hands and arms, feet and legs -  restraining as best they can. Laurent gives a single glance to the officer under his hands. He's Akielon, dark-skinned with darker hair, his face twisted in pain. "I've got you, soldier," Laurent tells him and the Akielon meets his eyes and gives a slight nod before looking to his fellow officers. Laurent begins to dig into the meat of his thigh, finding the artery and clamping it with a set of hemostats. The soldier screams as Laurent continues working to staunch the rest of the bleeding and pull away tissue too damaged to be able to heal._

_When he's done the Akielon has passed out, his comrades all surrounding him, and Laurent takes a step back to survey the scene. They make an unlikely group, a mix of Akielon and Veretian. Less than two hundred years ago they wouldn't have been fighting side by side as they are now, instead they'd have been fighting each other._

_Laurent is called away after only a moment, another soldier being carried in, and once again it's a mess of screaming, blood, and pain, all echoed by the rest of the soldiers crowding the makeshift hospital wing housed in the old training grounds inside Ravenel. Laurent's heart skips a beat when he sees a flash of blond hair being carried in. The next second he notices that it's not a familiar face - it's not his brother - and he feels a small measure of guilt over the relief that courses through him._

 

***

 

The farther from Fortaine he walks, the lighter his steps become - at least for the time being. His uncle is up to something and Laurent is certain it's not something he's going to enjoy uncovering. The past few months have been wrought with stress and uncertainty. The Second Patran War ended little over a year ago and it still feels like he's there in the thick of the destruction and pain. It was three months ago that Auguste passed away and just the month before their father had passed as well. The doctors had said it was the same of both of them, for all intents and purposes they’d caught an illness - probably from the war - and in the end they hadn’t been strong enough to fight it off.

Laurent's uncle had barred him from seeing either of their bodies himself but Laurent remembers how things hadn't added up. They'd both been completely healthy when they were honorably discharged from service at the end of the war. In fact, aside from a few scars they were some of the healthiest men to escape the horrors of an international war of such a scale. Laurent remembers noting that their health had started deteriorating six months after their return home and that after nights spent in their uncle's house at Chastillon, Auguste and Aleron's health would always plummet to extreme lows before going back up, but never returning to normal health.

He remembers watching, helpless, as his brother and father first contracted a rough cough that was quickly followed by a fever. The fever led to weakness and extreme fatigue. The coughing was soon full of blood. And then one night they both slipped into what has seemed to be a night of full, well-needed rest only to never wake and a week later succumb to everything and pass away. Laurent wasn’t able to figure it out then and even with his mentor's help they hadn't been able to solidly identify what could have happened beyond the assumption that both Renard men had been poisoned.

He'd tried to bring up his concerns with anyone who would listen but his family was something akin to royalty in Vere and their uncle, Byron, had already garnered himself many wealthy supporters who refused to listen to any criticism of his character.

He looks up through the trees and the late morning sun, closing his eyes and letting the light warm his face for a moment. Byron had strong-armed him into coming to Fortaine to check on its post-war dealings. Originally, after Aleron’s death, it had fallen into Auguste’s care but Auguste had created a secret will and left it to Laurent. Byron hadn’t been happy about the secret will, nor the fact that he still had next to no control or power over the Renard fortune. But without the war as a distraction, or the presence of Laurent’s father or brother, it left Byron with plenty of control over Laurent.

Fortaine had been granted temporary status as a supplies station during the war and was often shipping new supplies in and out. It hardly contained soldiers, though, as it was too far into Veretian territory for Patras or Vask to bother when Acquitart and Ravenel were both larger targets and more invested. When Laurent had first been pulled into the war efforts after years of gaining just the right amount of attention, he’d been stationed in Fortaine. After a year there he was sent to Ravenel where he stayed during the final years of the war alongside his brother and father.

Ravenel during the Second Patran War had been the main fortress for strategizing. It was halfway into the country and along the Akielon border, which made it perfect for holding the backup forces for Acquitart and planning without the constant pressure Acquitart was subject to - being right on the warfront. Its high walls had helped to protect them and in turn that protection meant Ravenel also had become the medical hub for all. Acquitart was where the main forces were stationed, along with the weapons, and was therefore the brawns of the operation. Ravenel had been the brains. Both Aleron and Auguste had been stationed in Ravenel since the beginning.

Aleron had been sent there because of his previous years of service under the Veretian army and because he was a well known and respected General. Auguste had been sent there under deference for who Aleron was and he was right to have been given such treatment because he quickly proved himself worthy of it, leading thousands of men and women against the joined Patrans and Vaskians and keeping them out of Vere and Akielos.

Many of the men and women Laurent treated sang Auguste's praises from their makeshift hospital beds. It was a constant parade of different ways in which Auguste had saved their lives or the lives of their comrades. They looked up to him and he quickly climbed the ranks until he was a Captain, sitting in on the strategy meetings and commanding his own groups of officers.

Laurent's story was quite different. He'd always been the more bookish of the two brothers while Auguste had always been the more physical one. Laurent was fourteen when Auguste and their father went off to war. He was 17 when he joined them in Ravenel, but not with the rank of a soldier. He was instead drafted a year early as a combat doctor.

When Auguste had left Laurent had caused quite the ruckus in their home in Marches. He'd refused to eat, refused to bathe. He'd sent all their maids and hands away, hiding in the quiet corners of the stables and having quite the sulk. He’d felt entirely abandoned and he’d been just on the cusp of finally escaping his uncles… attentions but Byron hadn’t been drafted. He had a congenital heart condition that barred him from joining and so Laurent had been left in Chastillon with him. Alone.

It was a friend of Aleron's who found him a week later, he'd been eating grain and drinking from the horse troughs and he probably had looked like quite the little street rat. But the man had been kind and gentle with him and had offered him a way to help bring his father and brother back home; a way in which he could use his bookish smarts. He'd been endlessly attracted to the idea and it had been with a very single-minded determination that he learned all that the man had to offer and more. It was also an easy escape from Byron, which Laurent found to be not a small blessing.

The man had been a physician known by the name of Paschal and he'd worked alongside Laurent's father during his first time in the army. While Paschal taught him all the tools and tricks of the trade he also told Laurent stories of all the times he'd patched Aleron up after some particularly nasty fights. Paschal had him helping treat all the people around the province of Marches before Byron had come down from Chastillon to "watch over" him. Laurent spent the next three years sneaking away from his uncle and into the surrounded provinces of Barbin and Ladehors to help any townspeople who needed it and gaining experience and a reputation.

The province of Ladehors is incredibly close to the province of Arran, which holds Fortaine, and it had been a contingent of soldiers passing through with supplies for Fortaine who had heard of Laurent's talents and told some of their higher-ups. And so, at seventeen, Laurent had been drafted as an official combat doctor during the Second Patran War despite the fact that he was a year younger than the drafting age. He spent a year in Fortaine before he was stationed in Ravenel alongside his father and brother, who had heard of the name he’d created for himself and welcomed him with open arms. He’d been able to forget about Bryon for three years.

 

***

 

_"I disagree, Commander. What if we send reinforcements along the edge of Lys and Alier? Then we can cut off the few stray Vaskian attempts at getting through the mountains --"_

_"But that leaves Varenne completely open, especially if we take sources from there and move them southward to Lys and Alier. We've already got a significant portion of our troops in Alier anyway and it hasn't made any difference along that section of the border."_

_"So what if we call up more resources from Akielos? What if we send a quarter of the Akielon troops to Aegina, have them cross the Patran border and take Bazal. It's the easiest way, we know that the current reigning leader of Patras is using Bazal as the main headquarters of their entire operation."_

_"They would never go for that. Because Bazal is so close to the border all of our sources say that it's got the most reinforcements. If we could draw the reinforcements away from Bazal long enough to send in an elite team, then maybe that could be a viable plan.”_

_Laurent watched quietly from the side of the meeting room. It was currently empty save for his father, his brother, and a few other generals who were discussing possible strategies late into the night. Auguste had been sitting beside him silently as well, scrutinizing. Laurent tuned out the discussion to instead focus entirely on his brother. He looked tired, dark marks smudged underneath his eyes and his hair, which had been down past his shoulders, now was clipped short and showed more of his face - which looked aged far beyond his 26 years. He sat tall in his seat, his back ramrod straight with perfect posture but Laurent could see the tension he held in his shoulders as if the weight of the world had found its way there and settled with little resistance._

_Auguste's eyes flickered between Generals as they each took their turn, their voices layered in frustration and exhaustion. The war had been going on for five years now with no clear end in sight. Everyone was tired and staying up any later wasn't going to help anyone in the upcoming day. Laurent stood and the generals turned when he opened his mouth and began speaking._

_"Regardless of all these details, which we all know,” He pointed out dryly, “going in circles and circles with far-fetched ideas helps no one. If I had the power to dismiss you all for the night I would. As it is, I can only make the suggestion that with the lot of you here right now, if you stay up any later you'll be less alert and rested tomorrow and that's a danger that we can't afford."_

_One of the generals laughed._

_"That's your tactical advice, officer?"_

_Laurent raised an eyebrow._

_“Take these statements and ideas, sleep on them, come back tomorrow rested. That is my tactical_ medical _advice, General."  Laurent could see Auguste's lips twitch in the corner of his eye. One of the other men in the rooms laughs._

_"Alright, Mr. Renard. I admit we do seem to be going in circles right now, and your medical advice is sound. Let's break and come back fresh tomorrow, gentlemen."_

_All the generals nod, and there are mutterings of "Yes Marshal"s as everyone slowly starts to clear the control room. The only ones left after the small exodus are Laurent, Aleron, and Auguste. Laurent looks down at the map that's been spread across the center table. It's a detailed map of Vere, Akielos, Patras, and Vask, with small models strewn across it in the places where the latest intelligence has placed the armies of both opposing nations. Laurent lets his hand drift down along the border of Delpha, tracing a path from Ravenel to the Ellosean sea while Auguste and their father gather their things._

_There truly doesn't seem to be a way to end the war. It's been two years since Laurent has been drafted and things have only gotten worse. They were losing lots of men to extreme wounds and illness and the loss of good men was starting to tip things in favor of the allied Vaskians and Patrans._

_We need something to turn the tides, he thought. Something to gain the upper hand._

He wanders in the forest for hours idly watching the sun make its slow ascent to its zenith from the eastern horizon through the breaks in the treetops. His mind races through possible paths he can take to convict his uncle of the crimes he's mostly gotten away with committing. He's so deeply ensconced in his thoughts that he doesn't realize when he passes through the border between Vere and Akielos, though it's hardly marked enough to cause a fuss.

He doesn't notice when the trees start to thin until he looks up from his feet to see a large clearing along the path beside him. He slows down. His brows furrow as he tries to mentally bring up a map of the area surrounding Fortaine. The only clearings near the fort are above it, nearer to Ladehors, or… But no, he couldn't have possibly walked that far. Could he?

Laurent turns off the path he'd been following, walking slowly through fields of knee-length grass and making his way across the clearing. His eyes scan the surrounding areas for identifiers and it's not long till he stumbles upon the rocky remains of what a nearby sign labels as ‘Marlas'.

He's walked the whole way from Fortaine to Marlas. He was now in Akielos. He frowns but keeps walking towards the ruins. He treks through crumbling walls and his brain supplies him with the history of the land he's currently walking. Originally it had been Akielos' in possession, back when the Artesian Empire split, though Vere tried to gain it as a province during the establishing years after the split but ultimately failed. It had remained in Akielon custody for two hundred years before Vere led another attack and gained the province for itself. Then, most recently what had caused the fort to fall into such a state of disrepair was the last fight for the province. During the mid 1700's, Akielos and Vere were at war once more and it was the young prince Damianos who fought against the King Tyrell of Vere and defeated him during the Battle at Marlas, thus winning the war commonly known as the Siege of Delpha.

That had been two hundred years ago and since that battle Vere and Akielos had struck a peace treaty which had lasted and was still going strong to this day. He was currently walking where many ancient wars had happened. He was currently touching walls that used to be the center of the Artesian Empire. What must it have been like? Having Vere and Akielos be not only allied but one in the same? What must it have been like having Vere and Akielos be enemies?

Laurent ventures further from the ruins, finding spare patches of the field with chunks of old stone walls broken and resting amongst the grass nearly overgrown with moss and other small plant life. In just two hundred years the earth is already claiming this land as its own once more. The clearing that Marlas was settled in was wide and opened up a few miles away into what looked like farm fields that were regularly taken care of and used to grow crops. Other than the eastern opening of the field, the rest of Marlas was loosely surrounded by thin forests of what looked to be oak, pine, and birch among other kinds of trees. This far north in Akielos, there wouldn't likely be any of their famed apricot or olive trees. Laurent turned away from the eastern sky and towards the west, where he knew the Ellosean sea to be.

If he gets to the ocean, it's a simple enough journey back to Vere, and as soon as he enters Arran he'll be able to find the road that leads back to Fortaine. If he tries to go back through the trees he might get turned around, especially if it takes him a while and things start to go dark, and instead walk along the border past Fortaine and towards Ravenel, which would be no help to him. His uncle is currently busy holding court with any nearby men that will listen to him, ostensibly to hear about Fortaine's dealings and how the running of the fort is being handled, but he won’t be distracted for long. Most days Byron spends following Laurent around and speaking subtle threats and _suggestions_ just to watch Laurent squirm. If Laurent is away for too long, it’ll draw more of his uncle’s attention and that’s the last thing Laurent wants to deal with at the moment.

Before the Second Patran War and now after it, Fortaine had been set up to be a museum of sorts. It had two sets of staff, one that was made of actors who all played people doing jobs about the fort that would have actually existed back in the early 18th century. During Veretian holidays the actors play people from even older centuries with elaborate costumes for each day and each century. Tours regularly take place in and around the fort, like the one that Laurent escaped from earlier, for tourists or even local Veretians to partake in if they're big on history.

Laurent remembers as a young child his whole history class leaving the capital to venture down to Fortaine and Ravenel and Acquitart for a week-long trip during which their teacher gave rousing speeches and the actors and actresses put on lovely little skits and invited all the children to play along. Despite the fact that Laurent's father owned the three border forts and the surrounding land they were on, Laurent had been forced to go on the trip. He hadn't had much fun on the trip, despite the dramatics of it all, because a group of the boys from his class had insisted on trying to make fun of him for the fact that his family owned the forts.

The forts had been passed down through the family, typically to the eldest sons or daughters of each generation. Since the death of his father and brother, Laurent knows that Fortaine was left to Auguste, but that Aleron had broken tradition by leaving Acquitart to Laurent. Ravenel, though personally owned by Aleron during his life, was left to the government of Vere upon his death. During the war, Aleron had signed off on the use of the forts as centers for the Veretian and Akielon armies.

After the war, Acquitart was the only fort to have sustained serious damage, and it was still undergoing repairs. Fortaine had only been used to hold supplies, and maybe officers or doctors in extreme situations, so it had been the quickest to return to its museum standard. Ravenel is quickly on the way to reopening as a museum but instead of it being a historic museum the plan had been to turn it into a museum/monument for the men and women lost in the Second Patran War.

Laurent has made it easily away from the rubble and back into the trees, following the sun towards the sea, when he hears it. Like a whisper through the trees, the soft beating of drums comes from further ahead and he slowly steps towards it. The further into the forest he gets the louder the drums seem to become until he breaks through a line and stumbles into a small clearing with a ring of large rocks littered around it. It's not the rocks he notices first though, it's the fact that suddenly the air rings with silence. The drums have stopped.

"Hello?" He calls cautiously into the afternoon air and nothing answers him. He walks further into the circle of rocks, walking past some that are easily twice his size in height and width. The rocks are completely unmarked yet they don't look like they've been purposefully placed there either. They've all got jagged tops, but the sides are all worn smooth from age. They've been here probably just as long, if not longer, than the ruins of Marlas. Something in Laurent's gut urges him forward, towards the tallest rock at the head of the clearing. His head tilts all the way back as he looks up towards the top of the rock, which is blocking the sun entirely from view.

He’s compelled to reach out to touch the stone, and without really thinking about it he does. A strange thrumming comes from the ground and jars him to the bone, getting louder and louder the closer his hand gets to the stone before him. Something keeps his arm outstretched towards the rock, getting closer and closer, even as the strange drums startle the air again. He doesn't dare look away from the stone and when his hand touches it the only thing he can catalog is that the rock isn't cold to the touch, it’s actually quite warm, before everything goes black and he doesn't feel anything at all.

 

***

 

When Laurent wakes, the first thought in his mind is that it's surprisingly warm. His eyelids flutter open and it takes a minute for the world to come into focus but when it does he sees that he's still in the clearing surrounded by the tall stones. The clearing near Marlas. His hand comes up to touch his head, the beginnings of a headache lingering behind his temples, and he slowly sits up from where he'd been laying. He remembers reaching out and touching the tallest stone but after that, his mind goes curiously blank. He can’t remember why he touched the stone in the first place either. He frowns.

Laurent looks around, trying to find the sun through the trees but he's surprised to see that he can't even see the clear blue sky. Instead it's all a light grey like it's building up to rain, which is peculiar because he could have sworn there was hardly a cloud in the sky when he… whatever he did. Passed out? Maybe the stress of the situation with his uncle was getting to him. Maybe his uncle had started trying to… No, Laurent would have noticed if Byron had tried to poison him like he had Laurent's family. He knew exactly what to look for in symptoms and though he didn't know what the poison itself was called he understood the look of it and what it did to its victims.

It was also odd that it was quite warmer now than it had been before he'd touched the stones, perhaps even before he'd left Fortaine. It felt as though it was right in the middle of what Laurent thought an Akielon summer in the capital would feel like, despite the burgeoning rainclouds. This left Laurent disoriented because he wasn't sore, so he hadn't been laying there long, a few hours at most, but it seemed like it wasn't the same day that he'd ventured off on.

Laurent looked around, trying to remember from which part of the circle he'd entered. If he couldn't find the sun to guide him, then he should retrace his steps and go back the way he'd come. Once he hit Marlas, he could organize himself and head in the right direction. His mind focuses on the memory of him entering the circle, and he tentatively decides on a course, picking a spot between two of the large stones a little more than a quarter of the way around the circle from where he currently is. He sets off into the forest once more.

Without the sun to guide him it's harder to track the passing of time. What could feel like hours could easily be only moments and what could feel like moments could easily be hours. His only goal is to find either Marlas or to find the ocean. If he can find Marlas, it's quick work to orient himself. If he can find the ocean, then all he has to do is keep the shore to his left and he'll be headed right back into Vere. Perhaps he might pass someone along the way, some farmer or traveler who knows which path he should be taking to get back into his own country.

He walks for what seems like miles through thick forests of trees, his eyes tracking his surroundings and keeping an eye out for familiar landmarks. Surely the walk from Marlas to the stones wasn't far? It had only taken him a few moments to get from the ruins to the stones, and even then he'd only been meandering. He had surely already walked twice that distance in twice that amount of time, so where were the ruins of the old Veretian fort? Unless he'd gotten turned around during whatever incident had overtaken him at the stones, which could be possible. But even then, he'd have reached a road or the shore by now. Surely.

His legs and feet are aching and his clothes are now filthy, covered in dirt and grass stains from all the times he's stumbled and tripped his way through the thick underbrush. The terrain is changing around him, becoming full of more steep inclines and shallow rivers. He's stepped through more than one bush only to discover the ground on the other side isn't where he thinks it's going to be and so he falls the rest of the way. He's reasonably sure that there are pieces of twig and leaves stuck in his hair. His palms are scratched from catching himself on tree trunks.

It's so quick he almost doesn't catch it but his head whips around to watch as a flicker of bright red flashes between a set of trees to his left and he stops walking. He squints in the direction of the movement, the red an uncharacteristic color of a forest, and his whole body flinches when the sound of a gunshot goes off incredibly close. He turns towards the sound, his brain immediately going to another place. Another gunshot goes off and he sees a flash of navy blue and his mind grinds to a halt because it wasn't just a simple bit of blue fabric he just saw. He could have sworn, actually, that he just saw a man in a full Veretian set of Blues. The kind of uniform that Vere wore back when it was still fighting with Akielos.

He knows his eyes aren't tricking him when someone stops a few meters up an embankment from him, their blue uniform striking against the dull, overcast greens of the forest. Laurent opens his mouth to call out a question, like what the bloody hell they think they're doing out here in the forest dressed in period regalia, when the blue soldier lifts a musket and fires directly at him. The shot doesn't make its mark, instead exploding the tree right beside Laurent and he immediately ducks and starts running. Clearly, this isn't some poorly timed recreation of an ancient battleground because Laurent knows for a fact that they don't use live ammunition during those.

His heart races in his throat as he runs, not knowing which direction to go except away from where the Blue Coats are , impossibly, running. He sees a few more men running about the forest, all meters away from him and dressed in either the Bluecoats of the Crown or the Redcoats of the Council. He tries to control his racing mind, which keeps giving him flashes of the Patran War whenever something nearby to him fractures into a mist of dirt and wood and plant life. He hears screams that aren't there, screams of dying soldiers he tried to help. It's when he sees an image from one of his nightmares, Auguste bloody and no longer breathing, that he doesn't see the very real obstacle in front of him. He trips over a dead log and immediately begins tumbling down a steep hill.

He has only the sound of rushing water to warn him before he plunges into cold water and comes to a stop amidst ice and rocks. His body jolts with the boreal water and his skin begins tingling. Laurent rights himself and gasps as he brings his head above the water. He wades across the small stream shivering and shaking with the cold and a rush of adrenaline. The gunshots that are still going off somewhere in the forest don't sound nearly as close as they did moments before and he leans against a dry rock to catch his breath.

Laurent's not sure whether he can blame his shock or something else for not hearing the sound of a blade being unsheathed until he can feel the piercing cold of it as a line against his neck. His muscles lock into place and his heart stops for a single moment before picking back up in double time.

 _"Well, well. What do we have here?"_ A gravelly voice says from behind him in Veretian and he twitches. _"Have a little trouble, pet? Too scared of the battlefield to stay with your master?"_ The voice gets closer to his ear and an awful shiver runs up his back when he can feel the air against his neck from whoever is speaking.

 _“I'm not a pet."_ " Laurent manages to say in between deep breaths, in Veretian, and the voice laughs. The blade disappears from his neck and Laurent finds himself hauled into turning around. He sees now that it's not just a small knife but instead an actual sword, the kind that hasn't been used in a few centuries. He has only a moment to take notice of this before the blade is back against his throat and he can see who's got a hold of him.

He’s in one of the Redcoat uniforms that used to belong to the men of the Veretian High Council. Men who worked for Vere but under a separate ruling from the Crown. This one, in particular, was big. Far too big for Laurent to have any chance to physically fight him off, especially with the fact that this man has a sword and a gun while Laurent has only his bare hands. Maybe if he can make a subtle move for the gun he could have the upper hand but this man's eyes are sharp, cold. Glittering with something Laurent doesn’t want to put a name to. His nose is flat with two large lumps that bespoke a twice broken and healed over injury. He’s stocky and not only taller than Laurent was but also thicker around. His hair is short and black beneath his black tricorn uniform hat.

When he had first turned Laurent over he’d looked shocked, but his face quickly morphed into a threatening smirk. He leaned in close. His voice had the sounds of a laugh hiding in it. His eyes were on Laurent's lips.

 _"Ah, my mistake. Though, I wasn’t expecting to see you so far south."_ He leans away to give Laurent a hungry look that makes Laurent break out into a cold sweat. He can hardly parse the meaning of what the soldier is saying. His focus is entirely on what he’s got to do to escape. He makes sure to keep his eyes away from the soldier’s gun so he won’t suspect what Laurent is about to do. The sword digs more firmly into his neck. “ _No uncle to keep us apart, how about we have some fun.”_

 _"Fuck you,"_ he manages, his mind racing through possibilities. If this wasn't a very dangerous and unfortunately timed reenactment of the Siege of Delpha, then this must be something else. Why were there Veretian soldiers so far into Akielos? Why were they dressed in seventeenth-century uniforms? Why did they have loaded guns and why were they shooting at people? The soldier grins at him.

_"I never knew you had such a mouth on you. I’m looking forward to finding out what else that mouth can do."_

The soldier leans in and Laurent can hear the sound of a buckle being worked loose. His body locks up, it has to be now or never. Laurent lifts his foot slowly and when the soldier leans even further in, his lips touching Laurent's neck, he throws his foot down on the insole of the soldier's boot. He swears and tears back from Laurent just in time for Laurent to rear back and aim a swift kick between his legs. As he falls to his knees Laurent's foot comes up again and kicks him hard enough in the nose to snap the soldiers head back. That’ll be a thrice broken and healed over injury now.

The soldier doesn't move or make a sound and Laurent waits only a few seconds before taking a step forward with the intention of grabbing the sword and gun off the now unconscious soldier.

A voice stops him.

"I'm impressed."

Laurent's eyes swing up and his brain immediately comes to a screeching halt. Standing there, a mere meter away, is another man. This one has dark olive skin and was probably just as big, if not bigger, than the redcoat soldier. He wasn't dressed in Veretian reds or blues and instead was in what looked like leather armor strapped tight across his chest. Instead of there being trousers to the armor, it gives way to a skirt made of straps of studded leather in what Laurent recognized as very old-fashioned Akielon armor. He’s wearing a half cape made of fabric close in color to the red of Veretian redcoats but just a bit deeper, more like a maroon than that of the bright High Council Red, draped over one shoulder.

Laurent blinks at him, shocked. Where the bloody hell was he and what the fuck was going on.

 _"Not many pets could take someone down like that."_ The Akielon continues and Laurent's mouth goes off before his brain can think of anything to say. Or not say.

 _"I'm not a pet."_ They were both speaking Veretian.  

" _No."_ The Akielon agrees, his head tilting to one side assessingly. _"Now? You're an Akielon prisoner."_ He begins walking towards Laurent and Laurent automatically takes a step back only to be backed against a wall of dirt. The other side of the stream is far steeper than the hill he’d fallen down to get here.

"What."

The Akielon raises an eyebrow.

"You think I'm going to let you go?"

"You can't take me prisoner!" Laurent objects and the Akielon's lips twitch like he wishes to smile but holds it back.

"Surely I can. I'm armed and I know that you can fight so I know what to expect from you. While you may have been fighting a Veretian soldier just now you're still clearly a Veretian and you've seen that I'm this far past the border. There's nothing stopping you from running off and telling the nearest patrol that there are Akielons this far north in Delfeur. I can't let you go."

Laurent opens his mouth to protest again, his mind still trying to catch up.

First the weird thing with the stones. Where he'd passed out. Then him stumbling upon a group of people who fire live ammunition in full eighteenth-century army finery. He's been almost raped by one of the Veretian soldiers who acted as though he knew Laurent and now an Akielon in ancient leather armor has appeared out of nowhere and wants to take him hostage. And the Akielon… The Akielon soldier had called it Delfeur. It hadn't been Delfeur for two hundred years. It was almost like Laurent had… Gone back in time. Nearly two hundred years back in time.

What year was it?

He didn't notice the Akielon soldier advancing on him until he’s close enough to touch. He moves as if to lunge away only to be caught around the waist by one of the soldiers large arms. The other is brought up behind Laurent's head and with a single hit Laurent's world disappears into darkness for the second time that day.

 

***

 

The first thing he notices is that he’s on a horse. His body is gently swaying in time with the horse's pace and there’s a solid wall behind his back. It takes him a few stuttering moments to realize that there’s someone sitting behind him on the horse. There's one thick arm wrapped around him and holding him upright and he almost thrashes out of the hold before everything comes filtering back in. The stones, the Veretian bluecoats, that single redcoat soldier, the Akielon.

The Akielon. Not Byron.

Laurent sits upright, ignoring the pounding headache that is likely blooming from where the Akielon had knocked him out.

“Careful,” the man behind him cautions, his free hand loosely holding the reigns. He takes a second to look around and notices that they’re still surrounded by forest with no clear trail.

“Where are you taking me.” He doesnt phrase it as a question and the Akielon behind him huffs what could possibly be called a laugh. “I’ll scream.” He warns and the arm around him tightens for a moment.

“I don't think you will, actually. And I’m taking you back across the border. While you may be a Veretian, you’re clearly not a soldier. That still doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have gone running back to the Veretian camp with word of an Akielon soldier so far north into Delfeur. I couldn’t risk it. You won’t scream because you were running from those redcoats and if you screamed they’d just come for you again. Just be grateful I don’t have you strapped to the back of my horse.” The Akielon doesn’t sound concerned or even slightly apologetic and it makes Laurents hackles rise.

“Yes. Because I’m always grateful when strange men decide to kidnap me. You’ve got my eternal thanks.” He snaps, reaching up to rub at his head where he’d been hit. There’s a lump but when he pulls his hand away and looks at it there doesn’t seem to be any blood - which is a positive, if only a small one. He knows head wounds can bleed excessively and he doesn't want to think about whether or not this Akielon knows how to care for wounds of such a sort.

Laurent decides the best course of action is to ignore the Akielon soldier behind him. He could try to get off the horse and escape him but he doesn’t know where they are or how long he’s been knocked out for. The soldier could probably catch him anyways if he tried and then the Akielon might not find him more amusing than anything else. He knows from his history classes that many of the Akielon soldiers were brutally trained to take down their enemies in any way possible. It’s what made them so formidable against the Veretians and why they inevitably won Delpha back into their possession.

If Laurent really has managed to travel back in time using those stones, he’s got to get more information about the situation he’s in before he tries to escape. Perhaps if he gets back to the stones he could go back to his own time? If it worked one way it must work the other.

It’s darker now than it was when he first woke by the stones, and while they are surrounded by forest it’s made up of different trees than the ones near Marlas. If the Akielon really was far enough north to find him then maybe now they’re far enough south to be in Akielos. And if not, then maybe they’re close.

Laurent stays silent as they ride knowing he probably won’t be getting any more information out of a man who is most likely an Akielon spy or scout. He tries to think back to when he saw the soldier standing in front of him. What weapons did he have on him that Laurent could possibly use if he manages to take the Akielon by surprise.

He had a sword, which was of no use to Laurent because he didn’t have the slightest clue how to use one and it would be laughably easy for the Akielon to wrestle it back. He didn’t see a gun, or even any smaller knives which would have been useful. He’d learnt how to shoot during the war, even though he was a doctor, and Auguste had insisted on teaching him some basic skills with small knives and daggers incase he didn't have time to reach for or load a gun.

It seems that if he wants to get away, he’s going to have to wait. First he needs a clear road or path to follow, and then he needs an opportunity to get away from the Akielon.

They ride for hours at a moderate pace and Laurent watches the shadows around them grow and turn the forest into something dark and foreboding. He’s rather certain that while it might be easiest to steal away in the darkness, it would also be incredibly hard to get anywhere when he doesn't know the terrain or what could be lurking in the dark.

It is only a few more minutes of riding when Laurent sees faint flickers of light ahead. The shape of a small shack slowly emerges from the darkness before them as the last light of day fades away. Two more Akielons on horseback emerge from either side of the forest around the shack and come to walk alongside them. The two riders start speaking and Laurent internally curses when he realizes he doesn’t understand a word they’re saying. They must be speaking Akielon.

Even during the war he’d only heard a few Akielons speaking Akielon. Most had spoken the common English, just like the Veretians. Although Laurent and many Veretians knew how to speak Veretian. Laurent had never had a reason to learn Akielon. He can tell that these men are talking about him, though, in the way that they keep looking at him. The shorter one keeps sneering at him as well. The other rider, who simply looks concerned, is speaking to the soldier behind Laurent with clear deference. In fact they both are. So it’s clear the soldier who grabbed him is of a higher rank.

“Come.” He says in English and it takes Laurent a moment to realize he’s speaking to him. The soldier hops down from the horse and holds his hand out to Laurent. It may have been a few years since Laurent has ridden a horse but he’s still entirely capable of getting off a horse without help so he simply raises an eyebrow at the soldier and gracefully gets down from the horse on his own. He sees the soldiers lips twitch before he motions Laurent to walk ahead of him. Laurent does with a glower.

They’ve ridden around behind the shack, probably to hide the horses from immediate view should anyone stumble upon them here. Laurent watches the two soldiers tie the horses to stable trees with nothing but a simple signal from the Akielon leading him. Definitely higher ranking. Laurent is led around to the front of the shack and inside where a fire is crackling away in a hearth and there are even more Akielon soldiers.

Laurent stands off to the side, observing, as the Akielons all start speaking to each other. The two riders come in and are soon speaking as well. There’s only one Akielon not speaking and he’s also the only one sitting down.

Of the two riders, the taller one has darker skin. His curls are cut short to his head and his face seems more open. Laurent would consider him traditionally handsome. The other rider has lighter skin and longer hair pulled back and tied with a leather strap. He is less conventionally attractive and is actually rather plain looking except for a scar that runs down from his temple and ends mid-cheek.

Of the three Akielons in the shack. One has lighter hair, easily the lightest hair Laurent has seen on an Akielon with such dark skin, and the softest features among them. He’s the one closest to the sitting Akielon, standing with a hand near the sitting one’s shoulder, he’s speaking directly to the Akielon who brought Laurent in. The other Akielon has his head shaved completely and other than a sharp jaw he also looks rather plain except he’s got the darkest skin of them all.

Laurent’s eyes keep straying to the Akielon who is seated. He’s big. Larger than any of the others seem to be, although that’s only in muscle mass. Laurent can't tell how tall he’d be compared to the others. He’s also shirtless, and the closer Laurent looks the more Laurent sees that there’s a purpose to the partial nudity. The Akielon’s shoulder is bumped in a way it shouldn’t be - a bump that bespeaks of dislocation at the least.

The Akielon in charge nods to the one standing by the injured soldier and both the injured one and his friend brace themselves. Laurent watches in mild horror as the smaller soldier grabs a hold of the injured arm and moves as it to try and twist it into place. Laurent jumps in before he can talk himself out of it.

“What the bloody hell are you _doing?_!”

Everyone freezes, turning to look at him, and it's clear most didnt even notice his entrance they were so concerned about their injured comrade. Laurent takes quick, thoughtless steps towards them and removes the Akielon’s hand from the other’s arm. He doesn’t notice that the others have pulled swords and knives out until he looks towards their leader and sees the steel shining in the firelight.

“If your goal was to permanently hinder this man’s use of his arm then good job. You almost succeeded.” He snaps, irritated. It’s been a long day, he’s been kidnapped, he hasn't eaten anything in who knows how long, but like hell he’s going to sit back and watch someone mistreat a patient.

“Excuse me?” The shorter rider snarls and Laurent shows his teeth in a facsimile of a smile.

“This man’s shoulder is dislocated--”

“We can clearly see that, snake.” The man sneers and Laurent turns, dismissing him.

“If your friend had tried to put it back in place he would have done it wrong. He was going to pull the wrong way and with the wrong type of force. That would have made it almost impossible for this man to use his arm in any capacity more taxing than lifting a spoon to his mouth.” Laurent is looking directly at the leader while he talks and he watches the man take in a deep breath of air, looking down and sharing a glance with the injured Akielon before looking at Laurent again.

“And what makes you say that?” He asks, voice calm.

“If you’d deigned to ask I’d have introduced myself before you’d kidnapped me. My name is Laurent Renard and I’m a doctor with the Veretian army.”

The bald Akielon scoffs. “You think we’re going to trust a Veretian? You’re all snakes who’d sooner see us die than lift a finger to help.”

“I have treated countless Veretian and Akielon’s and saved many more. I’ve seen worse horrors than you can imagine, soldier, and I took an oath to heal - not to harm. I cannot in good conscience let you maim this man, regardless of which country he or I come from.”

The concerned Akielon frowns. “Captain..” He starts, turning to the leader and the leader says nothing, only staring at Laurent. Laurent meets his gaze evenly, not backing down. The captain gives Laurent a small nod.

“I need a piece of leather, a strap or something similar, and I need clean cloth.” Laurent starts, turning his back on the standing men and focusing his attention on the one sitting before him. This close he can see the Akielon’s features and he’s surprised by how attractive the man is. He’s entirely calm, watching Laurent with assessing eyes.

No one has moved. Laurent turns to them. “Must I really do everything myself?” He snaps, before looking around. There’s really nothing in the shack save for some chairs and a half broken table. Laurent spares a single glance towards his own shirt. It’s loose cotton, white, and its become untucked and rather wrinkled after the day he’s had. It's the only sort of cloth available despite the fact that it’s kind of dirty from his tumbling down hills but the soldiers are all dressed in leather armor so it’ll have to do. He grabs at the hem and rips a fair strip off the bottom before looking around.

“I need a leather strip. Something for him to bite down on, it’ll make this easier.” He explains and watches as the captain cuts a piece from a saddle bag nearby that he hadn’t noticed. He takes the leather from the captain with a nod before turning to the other soldiers. “I need two of you to hold him.”

The concerned one steps forward along with the one with fair hair and they both share a look with the injured soldier before grabbing hold and bracing. Laurent leans closer, putting one hand on the front of the soldier socket and the other bracing along the Akielon’s uninjured shoulder.

“This is going to hurt.” He says and the soldier nods, putting the strip of leather between his teeth and taking deep breaths. Laurent feels along the dislocated shoulder, finding which angle it likely popped out from and beginning to push back against it as he slowly lifts the rest of the Akielon’s arm. The Akielon grunts but doesn’t make a sound after than and a large crunch echoes duly around the room as the shoulder pops back into place. The Akielon slumps forward for a moment, looking at Laurent with wide eyes. He removes the leather from his mouth.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” His voice was warm, deeper and more commanding than any of the others in the room and it sends a shiver down Laurent’s spine. He suppresses it and makes sure he shows no outward sign of being affected except a small bow in acknowledgement.

“No, I should hope not. It looks like you simply dislocated it and that you hadn’t torn any tendons, it could have been much worse. Now,” Laurent says as he starts wrapping his shirt fabric in a makeshift sling. “I don’t want you using this shoulder for at least a few days. I’d ideally say a good few weeks but I have a feeling that that’s asking too much of a soldier and that you wouldn’t heed my advice anyways.”

The soldier gives him a guilty grin.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t heed your medical advice, I simply can’t afford to at the moment, Doctor.”

The captain snorts. “That and you’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met. You were stabbed and you were walking later that day, Damen.”

Laurent gives the proclaimed Damen a horrified look. “That will most certainly _not_ be happening, if you know what’s good for you. I will make you sincerely regret going against my orders.” He warns and watches as Damen’s mouth splits wide into a grin, revealing a dimple.

The short angry rider mutters what is clearly a curse in Akielon before snapping quick words at the whole group of them. He points angrily at Laurent, spitting at his feet, before storming out of the shack.

There’s silence in the room for a moment before Damen sighs. “Let’s move out before we lose more time.” Everyone immediately begins moving and Laurent frowns. Even the captain moved at Damen’s suggestion, not arguing or contradicting the order.

“What are we doing with the Veretian?” The bald one asks, motioning towards Laurent as if he’s a stench he can wave away. “Aktis won't be happy if we keep him.”

“Aktis is never happy.” The concerned rider says under his breath and Damen’s lips twitch.

“We can send you ahead as scout if you want some time away from him, Pallas.”

“We’re taking the Veretian with us.” the captain says and the bald soldier gives him a sceptical look.

“Why don't we just get rid of him here and now?”

“We’re not killing a doctor who just helped Damen for no particular reason or gain except to get him out of pain, Elon. We’re soldiers not savages.”

“We’ve only got 6 horses, Nikandros.” Elon frowns.

Nikandros. That name sounds… familiar.

“I’ll take him.” Damen volunteers and Nikandros raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Damen doesn’t waver under the look and Nikandros rolls his eyes.

“Fine. Let’s go. Lydos, you and Pallas ride two meters on either side of us as silent as possible. Ride ahead but not far enough that we lose you.” Nikandros nods and Laurent watches the concerned rider, Pallas, and the fair haired soldier, Lydos, both head out. Elon, the bald and darkest skinned soldier leaves next, leaving Laurent with just Nikandros and Damen. They seem to have a silent conversation between them with Nikandros eventually giving in.

Nikandros dumps a bucket of water over the small fire in the hearth, waiting till the hissing fades out to almost nothingness while Damen attempts to strap himself back into his leather armor. Laurent knocks his hand aside and finishes the last buckle for him just as the light fades out and leaves them in darkness. Laurent feels what he assumes to be Damen’s free hand grab him gently around the wrist and leading him outside after Nikandros. He restrains himself from yanking his hand out of the soldier’s grasp. Damen’s hands are quite warm.

The clouds have partially parted from their constant cover and the full moon shines and lights their path. Aktis is already mounted and watching Laurent’s arrival with barely concealed disapproval but it looks as though he’s objected as much as he thinks he can get away with in front of his superior and so he stays silent. Laurent watches Damen gingerly pull himself up into the saddle with minimal struggle before he’s scooting forward in the saddle, which, no.

“I think not. You’re not allowed to use that arm, I’ll be holding those reigns.” He says, breaking the silence that they’d all fallen into. Laurent thinks he can hear Pallas laughing quietly as he gets up on his own horse. Damen shrugs, flinching with the movement of his shoulder, before scotting far enough back that Laurent can pull himself up. He does and then he gathers the reigns and gives Nikandros a nod.

They set off into the darkness with little fanfare, their path faintly lit in the moonlight. Nikandros rides to their right, likely making up for the fact that that is the arm Damen has in a sling, and Aktis and Elon are riding some paces behind them, talking quietly amongst themselves in muttered Akielon. Lydos and Pallas have split off and are hidden in the forest, guarding their flanks and scouting ahead for potential enemies.

Laurent doesn’t realize how cold he is in his thin, ripped cotton shirt and cotton pants. They’re simple clothes, meant to make him look unassuming as he had observed the goings-on at Fortaine. They had allowed him to slip away unnoticed as well but they weren’t very conducive to keeping someone warm on a night as surprisingly cold as this one was turning out to be. It had to be close to midnight now, and Laurent can see more clouds rolling in, blocking out the moon for small stretches of time. Laurent tries to suppress his shivering, much like he tries to suppress the growling of his stomach. Damen seems to be able to tell, though, because he says something in Akielon to Nikandros who pulls in close to them and reluctantly holds out a small bag.

“You’re going to have to take it. I’ve not been granted the use of my arm.” Damen’s voice rumbles against his back and he turns as much as he’s able to give what he hopes Damen can see is a flat look. He still grabs the bag, just as Damen moves forward in the saddle until there’s no space between him and Laurent. He’s putting off a surprising amount of heat and his body feels like a brand where it’s touching Laurent’s. There probably isn’t even enough space for someone to blow a breath between them from knee to shoulder. Laurent really does shudder at the sudden temperature change and while he’s not entirely comfortable having a complete stranger in his space, his body hasn’t caught that fact and is instead reveling in the newfound heat. A splash of fabric comes down over his right shoulder and he looks down at it for a moment, uncomprehending.

“It’s a chlamys, it’ll be long enough to cover our top halves if we stick close together. There’ll be dried meats and bread in the bag, we’re two days ride to Sicyon, help yourself.” Damen says quietly, leaning in and almost resting his chin on Laurent’s shoulder. “And trust me, you’re going to want to be covered, it’s going to rain tonight.”

Laurent decides to heed the advice and hands the small bag of food to Damen, who’s left hand comes forward to hold it while Laurent adjusts the fabric to cover both of them like a blanket. The clouds parting to show some moonlight seems to be only a brief respite and they are still rolling back in to cover more sky. He squints into the darkness for a moment. “Do you mean to tell me we’re riding through the night?” He asks, incredulous, and he can physically feel Damen’s chuckle reverberate through him.

“Yes, now eat something. It wouldn’t do for you to pass out. While the rest of us have some basic field training for medical situations, you’re the only doctor we’ve met for days. And I really can’t stop you from falling off this horse, in my current condition.” Damen hands the bag back to Laurent and he takes it, pausing for a moment before pulling out a small, slightly stale, bun and chewing on it. His stomach is almost screaming at him to scarf it down but he holds back and instead eats it entirely slowly, savoring the only food he’s had in hours.

When he’s had two small rolls and a bit of the dried meat he’s feeling far better than he has in hours. He’s warming up quickly thanks to the cape-like chlamys that Damen has draped over both of them and his stomach, while not full, is no longer empty. His head feels clearer and he stays silent while trying to absorb what all has been going on. Everything has happened so quickly, all one thing right after the other that he’s been going on autopilot for most of the day.

As crazy as it seems Laurent finds that he has no choice but to accept that, for all intents and purposes, he’s traveled back in time. First the bluecoats and redcoats, then these Akielon soldiers with their ancient armor. Nikandros had called the province Delfeur, meaning it was still part of Vere, but the fact that Nikandros had been so far north meant it must be close to the years of the Siege of Delpha - that was the only time the Akielons were actually _in_ Delpha/Delfeur during the war. Then there’s the other thing, like how Nikandros’ name sounds so familiar. Laurent knows he’s heard it before, but in what capacity? Who is Nikandros? And who is Damen, when Nikandros was so clearly labeled Captain, but he followed Damen’s orders? What exactly has he managed to get himself into? His thoughts carry him well into the night, his mind turning in circles as it tries to piece together things it seems to be missing.

Damen was right. A slow, cold rain starts up while they ride and then they truly are in complete darkness. When they seem to be veering off course or off path Damen nudges Laurent’s knees, depending on which way they’re veering, and Laurent corrects them and easily gets them back in line. The only thing he really has to watch out for is falling asleep, the gentle rocking of the horse being a sensation that could easily relax him and cause such a problem. But he’s determined and so he presses on, forcing himself to stay awake as they continue on their way. All the while his head is running through possible escape routes, and how he’d go about them. He’s got to get home, if he can. He can’t stay here forever. Wherever or whenever this is.

 

***

 

They’ve been riding in silence for hours now. Pallas and Lydos had switched with Aktis and Elon and were now taking up the rear while Elon and Aktis trekked marginally ahead.

It now looks to be midday or close to it. The rain has let up long enough ago that now Laurent’s clothes are only faintly damp. He’s given Damen back his chlamys but hasn’t moved away from the warmth he’s been radiating against Laurent’s back. The sky is blanketed in a pale uniform grey and there is a slight breeze blowing through the trees.

No one has spoken save for quiet whispered conversation whenever the scouts come back to Nikandros with updates or potential changes of course - which has happened twice since there has been enough light to see by. Laurent has been using the silence to think back on his history classes from school and what all they covered about the Akielon side of the war. The answers were pretty dismal - most of Veretian history was about Veretian tactics and actions, not their Akielon counterparts.

Damen is the first to break the silence, leaning closer to Laurent and pointing to what looks like a small mountain in the distance.

“That is the Caieta mountain range. We’re exactly a days ride from Abydos in Sicyon.” Laurent squints at the mountain, the name Caieta ringing a small bell in his mind. There is a small mountain range, really only one mountain and easily the smallest in all of Akielos, known as Caieta. But back before the siege of Delpha it had been known as Caiette, if only for the fact that Vere owned it for a small time before Akielos seized it back. They were still over the old Veretian border. They’d been in Vere this whole time.

If it had taken he and Nikandros a day to get to where the rest of these men had been camped and now they’d ridden through the night and half the day and they still had so many miles to go before they were in Akielos - Laurent’s job of getting back to the stones was going to be much harder than he’d originally thought.

There was also the fact that with the Caiette mountain exactly on the border between Delpha and Sicyon both sides used it to their advantage during the Siege years. On the Veretian side they used it to ambush Akielon scouts trying to get back into Akielos. On the Akielon side they drove Veretians away from their border and far up the mountain and used the advantage of knowing the terrain to then pick off the Veretian soldiers as easily as one might pick ripe fruit from a low hanging branch. They were on the Veretian side with the express purpose of using this lesser known trail to the mountain to get back over the border. The Veretians would be at least slightly aware of the use of this trail, if not the exact days that scouting Akielon troops would be passing through. If he didn’t want to hurt his chances of getting back home unscathed he was going to have to warn Damen and Nikandros.

“We shouldn’t be using this path.” He starts, quietly, Damen seems to be the more amiable of the two leaders, if he can convince Damen then Damen can convince the captain. Hopefully.

“We’re completely safe using this path. It’s a lesser known trail, only a few choice Akielons even use it or know about it’s existence for the express purpose of keeping it safe. So far none of our groups who’ve used it have come to harm. It’s away from where the Bluecoats are stationed to be watching and on guard. This is the way we came in, it’s the way we’ll leave.”

“You don’t understand, we _can’t_ use this path.” Laurent hisses and pulls on the reigns, forcing their horse to jerk to a halt. The horse gives a short, angry snort and shakes its head. Nikandros turns from his scanning to look back at them and he frowns when he sees Laurent’s tight hold on the reigns. He whistles a sharp note and Aktis and Elon come from the trees in mere moments, somehow soundlessly, atop their own large horses.

“What are you doing.” It’s not even a question, how Nikandros phrases it, and Laurent gives an aggravated huff through his nose. Looks like he’s going to have to simply convince Nikandros instead.

“I refuse to go ahead. This path is not as safe as you think it is.” He says evenly and Nikandros looks to Damen for a moment before his dark brown eyes rest once again upon Laurent.

“And what would a doctor know of paths into Akielos. I heard you say last night that you’d treated Akielons but no Akielon south of the border would be foolish enough to trust a Veretian doctor. Especially not one whose looks so clearly point them as a northern Veretian, from inside or close to the capitol. Citizens who live that close to the crown have no room for creating alliances or allegiance elsewhere.” Nikandros turns his horse around so he’s facing Laurent, pulling in close enough that their legs are almost touching as he stares down at him. Laurent holds his gaze evenly.

“This _doctor_ knows that this specific path into Akielos is being watched by at least a hundred Veretians who are camped at the base of Caiette waiting for the explicit purpose of catching Akielon scouts and ambushing them mere miles from the border. They have enough men to easily out-power any small group of Akielons. Considering this is a scouting route, none of you would be dumb enough to attempt taking a larger group with enough men to combat the Veretians stationed there. They know about this path and just because you were lucky enough to get in doesn’t mean you’ll be lucky enough to get out.”

All the Akielons are silent for a moment before Aktis begins clearly cursing out Laurent in Akielon and Elon attempts to shut him up. Nikandros keeps his eyes on Laurent’s as if he can parse out any falsities with simply a glance. “And where exactly did you get this information from?”

“From Marlas.” Laurent throws back and watches Nikandros’ brow furrow infinitesimally before he finally looks away, blinking at Damen with clear question. Damen shifts behind Laurent, his left hand coming down and pulling out what is clearly a knife from some indiscernible (to Laurent) spot in one of the horses’ saddle bags.  

“We continue on, we stick together, keep an ear out and your eyes open. Nobody make a sound. This far away from the mountain, and their camp, they’re likely to send a smaller retinue further up the path. If we encounter a group of bluecoats, take them out, even if you have to lead them away, lead them back the way we came, don’t let them gain enough ground to get reinforcements. Block their way to the mountain. Let’s go.” He says, his voice direct and calm. He turns and looks each of the men in the eye, giving them a nod and getting an answering nod in return before turning to the next and repeating the gesture.

“And if the snake is lying?” Aktis asks, his accent thick on the english words, his disgust thicker. His lip is curled back in a soundless snarl, making the scar on his face stand out starkly against his lighter skin.

“If I’m lying, then you’ll be cautious where it turns out there was no need to be. If I’m not, then you’re prepared and ready to fight.” Laurent says to him, slowly, and Aktis leans forward on his horse threateningly.

“Why would you want us to kill your countrymen, little snake.” He says plainly, his eyes glaring down at Laurent and Laurent raises a single eyebrow, keeping his expression neutral.

“My safety is in the hands of your captain and the lot of you. If I wish to stay unharmed, it’s in my best interest that _you_ stay unharmed. I was already attacked by a redcoat, I have no urge to experience it again.”

Damen tenses up behind him.

“You were attacked by your own people?”

It’s Nikandros who confirms it, giving a slight nod towards Laurent. “I found him being cornered by a redcoat trying to rape him. I was about to step in when the little snake knocked him unconscious. Kicked him in the groin, then in the face as he was going down. Entirely efficient. I believe he was even going to take the soldiers knife or gun before I stopped him and took him with me. I thought him at first to be a pet, based on the peculiar way he was dressed, and thought that maybe we could use him to get more information.”

It’s the one with the fair hair, Lydos, who snorts what could be construed as a laugh. His hand comes up to cover his mouth.

“You kicked a redcoat in the face? After you kicked him--”

“In the family jewels, yes. Just because I’m not a soldier doesn’t mean I don’t know how to at least defend myself. I’m not a pet for any Veretian lord or lady or soldier. I’m a bloody doctor.”

Lydos grins at him, openly, his shoulders slightly shaking with contained laughter. “I imagine it was a sight to see. I’m sorry to have missed it. It’s not often someone gets to take a redcoat down a peg or two.” Lydos abruptly stops grinning. “Though if they think that they can get away with raping their own people, I can understand why you’d want to avoid them.”

All of the men look rather serious at that and Laurent tucks the information away to be later dissected. Nikandros breaks the short silence with a sharp look between all the men.

“We follow Damen’s advice. Stay sharp. If there are too many of them then split up into pairs and try to go in a roundabout way across the border. If we do have to split up try to make it across then go to the inn outside Karthas, you all know which one. We wait there for a week for everyone to make it there, then we head for Abydos. Let’s go.” Nikandros orders and the men all stay silent and fall in line. Laurent can see Pallas and Lydos with their hands on their sword pommels and their eyes scanning the trees.

Damen reaches forward and grabs at the reigns singlehandedly, holding them in such a way that the horse’s footsteps fall almost completely silently beneath them. Laurent leans further back against Damen, wishing he had a weapon of his own while he looks down at the knife glinting against Damen’s thigh where he’s attached it to a belt or something else Laurent can’t see.

It’s not many more paces forward before Nikandros holds up his arm. He says a single sharp word in Akielon before Laurent hears the sounds of metal being unsheathed. Suddenly he’s being thrown from the saddle as Damen heaves behind him and he lands on the ground with a small thump, too shocked to say anything.

“Hide yourself.” Damen orders, before they all charge forward and gunshots once more ring through the air. For the second time in as many days Laurent watches bluecoats run through thick woods and the forest is taken over by the back and forth calls of gunpowder lighting and trees exploding. Laurent watches six large draft horses disappear into the trees beneath their riders. He waits all of two charged seconds before he takes off in the opposite direction. All rational thought leaves his brain, the only clear message remaining are a few single words.

Hide yourself, Damen had said. Well. He had a better plan.

Run.

Escape.

He flits through trees, listening as the sound of gunshots and clashing metal fades to almost nothing behind him. The only thing he can hear is the beating of his heart in his ears. He runs for what feels like miles but what is really only one, if that. He comes upon a stream and he stops for a moment, all he can hear is his harsh breathing and the sound of softly running water. All nearby birds would have been scared silent by the gunshots and shouting. He treads carefully beside the stream before climbing up a slight embankment, his hands and feet slipping over cold wet leaves.

He must be far enough way that it would be an inconvenience to try and look for him, especially if the Akielons really did have to split up to get away from the bluecoats. He feels mildly guilty over how relieved he is to think that they’ve had to split up and will leave him alone. This close to the Akielon border he could probably make his way towards the ocean and then travel up or down the shoreline until he stumbled upon a group of Veretian soldiers. He could claim to have been kidnapped by Akielons, which was true, and that he just needed some help getting home, which was also the truth. Surely they couldn’t all be like that redcoat thug he’d stumbled upon.

His hopes are all dashed with a single question.

“Lost your way?”

He freezes and turns to look further up the embankment. He watches Damen hop down from his horse before leading the horse towards Laurent. Laurent notices he’s using his right arm to lead the horse. The arm that he’s supposed to have in a sling, which seems to curiously have gone missing. When Damen gets close enough to him he can see blood splatter on his leather armor as well as on his skin where the armor doesn’t cover. It’s almost like it’s painted across his face.

He’s looking back and forth, scouring the trees around Laurent and probably looking for any errant bluecoats. He automatically reaches down towards Laurent with his right hand and Laurent gives it a cold look.

“You’ve been using your shoulder.” He says darkly. Perhaps he can act as if he wasn’t trying to run away and simply had gone a bit too far. To be fair, Damen had only told him to hide. He never said where or how.

Damen gives him a look.

Laurent makes the mistake of looking to his left before he tries to dart away and Damen jumps down the small distance to him and holds out his sword to block Laurent’s way. His left hand comes up as if he can try and grab Laurent if he goes to run the other way and Laurent takes a step back, glaring.

“Nikandros and the others are waiting upstream.” Damen starts, slowly, his eyes calculating. “We’d better get to them soon before they start to worry.”

Laurent feints as if he’s going to run to the left and Damen moves instinctively to block him. He runs the other way but it doesn’t take long before Damen is wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him back.  Laurent struggles and kicks at Damen’s legs hard enough for Damen to release him but Laurent is backed into a corner, the dirt too steep for him to climb and Damen blocking his way out.

“I’m not coming with you.” He spits and suddenly, desperately, he wishes Auguste was still alive; was here to help him. Auguste could fight off Damen. Auguste would have been able to fight off Nikandros before Nikandros could have even taken him. Auguste was absolutely brilliant in a fight. Even with these medieval weapons, Auguste would have won.

“I disagree.” Damen says, amiably. As if he’s not cornering Laurent and looming over him, covered in Veretian blood.

“What are you going to do if I disagree with your disagreement? Going to kill me? Slit my throat like the bloody redcoat likely wanted to when he’d finished with me?” His voice is low and he keeps his chin up, his eyes on Damen’s.

“No. Unlike the men of your country, I have honor. I would never fight someone who was unarmed. And I’d rather die than force someone into such an act as that Veretian soldier was familiar with. I’m not going to kill you.”

“Oh? And what are you going to do?”

Damen’s face turns less serious and he looks Laurent up and down slowly, assessingly. Laurent tries to take a step back before the cold dirt behind his shoulders reminds him there’s nowhere for him to go.

“Well… You don’t look too heavy. Certainly I’ve picked up heavier things. I suppose that my plan is to pick you up and cart you over my shoulder. Like an errant child. Would you like me to do that? I’ve only ever used my right shoulder for such things. I’m sure it could handle that.”

Laurent glares and crosses his arms.

“If you dare to use that arm any more than you already have then I _will_ kill you and bring you back from the dead just to kill you again.” Damen’s head tilts to the side and his lips quirk.

“Sounds like witchcraft, Doctor. Are you well versed in that as well?” Laurent glares. “Then you’re just going to have to walk to my horse, and get on. Won’t you?”

Laurent bares his teeth in a facsimile of a smile, his lips pulled back into a snarl as he stomps past Damen and up the embankment. He grabs the reigns and pulls himself into the saddle with a silent huff and stares defiantly back at Damen who simply follows after him and hops up onto the saddle behind him. Laurent sits as far forward as he can, touching as little of Damen as possible, while Damen grabs the reigns and turns them around. He kicks his heels into the side of his horse, saying a short command in Akielon and the horse takes off at a trot back the way Laurent came.

The distance he crossed with his wild running was easily covered in mere moments on horseback and the futility of it all sat heavy in Laurent’s gut. He says nothing as they join the other riders. He notices that they too were covered in blood, but that none of them or the horses looked to have been grievously injured. Nikandros raises his eyebrow at them, Laurent doesn’t know what expression Damen makes at him but it causes Nikandros to shake his head before they all begin their journey again.

They follow alongside the stream now, instead of on the small path.

Small conversations start up and stop between the other soldiers. Damen and Laurent are bringing up the rear of the group. Laurent tries to ignore the fact that every time they go over somewhere particularly taxing Damen grunts or hisses behind him. It’s a few hours later when Laurent finally snaps.

“It would serve you right to have torn a tendon using the shoulder I specifically told you not to.” He says sharply and Damen huffs behind him.

“If I hadn’t moved my shoulder then I wouldn’t be moving anything else. Surprisingly enough, I don’t actually want to be in obscene amounts of pain.” He says back evenly and it’s Laurent this time who huffs.

They stop when the stream gets to be a little thicker and Nikandros gives a signal that has some of the men hoping down from their horses to fill their canteens. Lydos holds up a smaller leather pouch and grins at Laurent.

“Here’s to the good doctor. For tipping us off about the bluecoat ambush.” He laughs and takes a swig, he doesn’t hesitate before holding it out and Damen takes it with a quiet hiss of pain. Taking a swig himself. He holds it in front of Laurent and Laurent looks at it with distaste.

“I don’t drink.” he says, his tone cold and Damen leans close to his ear.

“We’ve got just enough rations to make it to tomorrow morning, it may not taste the best or be very filling but it’ll keep you warm and make you forget you’re quite so hungry. I imagine all the running you did is catching up to you.” He holds the pouch under Laurent’s nose and Laurent frowns before taking the canteen from him and taking a swig.

The last time Laurent had something to drink was when he was 18. Auguste had gotten seriously hurt, hurt enough to have almost not made it, and Laurent had drunk himself into a stupor to try and deal with the fact that he could have lost his brother. The effects that carried him through to the next day were not something he wished to experience again and he hadn’t touched even a drop of watered down wine since.

This drink? Whatever it was, was completely awful. The only thing Laurent could taste was burning and when he swallowed it was like he’d swallowed a burning ember. It sat lively in his stomach and he felt that if he so much as breathed he’d be emitting smoke like a steam engine.

He did his best to not make a face but felt like he’d slightly failed when Lydos gave a short laugh and took the pouch back. Even Aktis looked amused and instead of sneering at Laurent he simply grinned, sharing a flask with Elon of what was likely the same alcohol. When all the water canteens had been filled they set off again.

“Are we still going to Caiette?” Laurent asks later, as dusk starts to creep in. He can’t even see the sky through the trees, let alone the small mountain and Damen’s hands tighten on the reigns.

“Caieta, and we’re not going that way, we’ve had to change our course. We’re going to come in even closer to the Elosean sea, now. It’s an old trail that used to be used for trade of salt and fishing supplies back when Delpha was a major part of Akielon trade.

“ _Delpha_?” Laurent asks and Damen is silent for a heavy moment behind him.

“It _will be_ Delpha once more; forever. It has always belonged to Akielos, I refuse to call it by any other name. The Veretians trapped innocent Akielon citizens in the province when they seized it, claiming those Akielons as their own. I plan to bring those families home; to return who they are and what they stand for.”

Damen says the words quietly, evenly, no one else but Laurent could have possibly heard them but Laurent can hear the steele of Damen’s resolve wrapping around every word like a vocal shield. He’s never seen Damen fight, but he knows he wouldn’t want to based on pure determination alone. Auguste had sounded like that many nights during the war, in many proper meetings and even improper ones. He seemed to find a way to bend fate to his will. Everything he spoke of came true by what seemed like Auguste’s belief and that alone.

They lapse back into silence.

 

***

 

There is next to no change in the scenery when they finally make it over the border and into Akielos. There is, however, a change in the men. They all ease up and relax. Their posture gets lighter and less tight and anxious and many of them start to smile as freely as Lydos has been since the small battle back near Caiette. Elon and Aktis pass their canteen back and forth while quietly talking together. Even Nikandros looks like he relaxes, though his posture is still perfect and while his eyes still search their surroundings he does it less often.

Laurent can also feel Damen relax behind him. Or at least he thinks it’s Damen relaxing until he feels Damen start to list too far to the right and he turns in the saddle as much as he can to look behind him. It’s almost night time now and dusk is fading away exceptionally fast in the forest but even Laurent can see that Damen’s face is paler than usual. His eyes are fluttering, on the brink of closing, and just as Laurent shouts a panicked ‘Help!’ they close completely and Damen falls from the saddle onto the ground. He doesn’t move except to breathe and Laurent finds that one moment he’s in the saddle and the next he’s on the ground, his fingers checking for a pulse. It’s fast, faster than it should be when the only thing they’ve been doing is going at a slow pace on horseback.

He can hear the other men coming down from their horses and surrounding him. “Help me prop him up. I have to take off this armor.” He says and it’s Pallas and Lydos who immediately help hold Damen up. Nikandros kneels down beside him and helps Laurent undo the buckles and as soon as they pull the leather away the problem is revealed. There’s a clear gunshot wound oozing blood and the inside of the armor is completely slick with it.

“He’s been shot.” Laurent says and Nikandros sighs beside him.

“Of course he’s been.”

Laurent gives him a look before going back to his examination. He narrates out loud what he’s doing and seeing.

“It’s high enough that it’s only through muscle,” He starts before pulling Damen forward and looking at his back. “There’s a clear exit, so there shouldn’t be anything stuck inside to cause more bleeding.” The wound itself is above the collarbone on the front of the trapezius muscle on Damen’s right side. The same shoulder he’d dislocated. Perhaps his hissing and grunting had been because of the gunshot wound but he hadn’t noticed it and instead thought it was his dislocated shoulder that was in pain.

“I’m going to need some clean cloth and something to disinfect the wound.” He says and when silence answers him he looks up. The Akielons are looking at him, their faces puzzled.

“I-I’m sorry, disinfect?” Pallas asks and Laurent nods, impatiently.

“Yes. The wound has likely got all kinds of dirt and sweat in it by now, I need to disinfect it so that there are is no bad bacteria before I cover it.” He says and this time it’s Lydos who asks.

“Bacteria?”

It’s the careful pronunciation that clues Laurent in. Bloody hell, these people know next to nothing about the science behind wound care. Modern medicine really would seem like some kind of miracle to everyone from this time, wouldn’t it. He’s going to have to simplify everything he says or needs medically, isn’t he.

“The alcohol. Hand it over.” He holds his hand out and Elon warily hands him the canteen. He rips another part of his shirt and soaks it in alcohol before pouring the rest of the flask directly on the wound. Damen wakes with a startled gasp, Akielon slipping from his tongue, and Laurent leans in until Damen focuses on him.

“Welcome back, soldier. Brace yourself.” he says, just before pressing the now sterilized cloth into the wound. Damen says what it clearly a swear if Laurent is recognizing the words correctly. Aktis had spoken some of them already today. Damen glares at him and he grins.

“You don’t have to enjoy yourself so much, Doctor.” He wheezes thinly and Laurent shrugs.

“This could have been dealt with earlier before it caused you to fall from your horse and likely aggravate your already bad shoulder. You decided not to tell anyone you’d been shot and now you get to deal with those consequences.”

“And that oath to heal not harm?” Damen asks and Laurent motions to his shoulder with an innocent look before holding his hand out for the armor.

“I _am_ healing.”

He buckles Damen back into the armor, Pallas helping him, and then he grabs what used to be Damen’s old sling - which had been hanging under the armor - and begins to re-tie it over Damen’s armor so that it holds the makeshift sterile gauze pad tightly over both sides of the gunshot damage. Damen gives him a look before looking up to Nikandros who’s standing right behind Laurent and watching.

“How far do we have left?”

Laurent can hear the creak of leather as Nikandros shifts, thinking it over.

“Six hours, seven or eight if we have to go slow.”

Damen nods for a moment before bracing himself. “Alright then, let’s go.”

Laurent looks away from the sling, his mouth falling open.

“ _Absolutely not_. You need to rest. You’ve lost a significant amount of blood. You should definitely not be on a horse right now.” He says sternly and Damen just looks at him.

“We may have passed the border but that doesn’t mean that Veretians won’t be looking for us. We took out a decent size troop at Caieta and now they’ll be stretching their patrols. Which isn’t even mentioning potential Veretian scouts and spies who could easily be this far into Akielos. We have to keep going. The sooner we reach Abydos the sooner I can properly rest, as per your orders.” Damen adds, and Laurent can see Pallas and Lydos share a look from the corner of his eye.

Laurent looks out around the forest for a moment before sighing.

“Fine. But just so you know, I’ve treated children who know how to follow orders better than you do.” Laurent’s acquiescence seems to be the signal because everyone heads back for their horses, even Nikandros, leaving Laurent with Damen sitting on the ground.

Laurent is silent for a moment, continuing his tying of the sling.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, and Damen looks at him before a smirk crosses his face.

“I’d say no just to spite you but I realize that that would only make you tie it tighter.”

Laurent raises a single eyebrow at him before sitting back.

“Maybe there’s hope for you to grow a working brain yet.” He answers back and Damen’s smirk grows into a grin. Laurent stands up and hesitates for a moment before holding his hand out. Damen takes it and pulls himself up till he’s standing before Laurent with a smile that’s softened around the edges and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Thank you, _Xenos_ , truly. I owe you my right arm now, twice.”

“Careful. If you owe me I _will_ collect.” He says back and Damen laughs.

“I’ll let you know when I grow my second right arm so you can collect them both at the same time, how about that?” Laurent’s tilts his head as if in agreement before motioning with a fluid gesture towards the horse.

“Let’s go, soldier. Abydos awaits.”


	2. a distant light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not your friend.” He protests, finally, and Damen’s lips spread into a small grin. 
> 
> “Not yet, Doctor, but I think you’ll find that I’m particularly determined when it comes to making friends.” 
> 
> “Even with Veretians?” Laurent challenges and Damen doesn’t give an inch. 
> 
> “Especially with Veretians."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i took gratuitous free-reign over how long the countries were, as well as how long i wanted it to take them to get anywhere on horseback. just a forewarning, because i play it fast and loose the entire fic so....
> 
> ______________________________________________

_“Last one to that tree on the far side of the field is a sore loser!” Laurent yells excitedly and before Auguste can even ask which tree he means Laurent has kicked his heels into the flanks of his horse and they’ve taken off at high speed._

_“Hey! Cheater!” Auguste yells from behind him but Laurent can hear the pounding of a second set of hooves against the ground and he grins. He turns to look back only once at his brother, his hair pulling out of it’s ponytail and flying freely in the wind before he turns back around and leans forward in the saddle. He laughs, carefree and bright in the shining spring sun as he makes it to the aforementioned tree just seconds before Auguste does. His hands let go of the reigns and he lets loose a ‘whoop!’ of excitement and when he turns to look at his older brother it’s to see him trying to look at Laurent with a stern expression. His lips are twitching up at the corners, though, so Laurent knows he’s not really angry._

_“That wasn’t very nice sportsmanship, Laurent.” He says and Laurent just grins wider and unrepentant in all his 8 year old glory. Auguste’s expression breaks, his smile bursting through and he laughs with Laurent for a moment._

_“You’ve lost yet another hair tie, what will father think?” He jokes, reaching out and ruffling Laurent’s hair. Laurent leans away for a moment only to pull his horse in close to Auguste’s and reach out, lightning fast, and steals the tie holding Auguste’s braid in place._

_“Surely he’ll think nothing, because I’ve got a hair tie right here.” Laurent teases, wrapping the leather around his wrist and Auguste gapes at him for a moment before he makes a move like he’s going to lunge over their horses and tackle Laurent to the ground. Laurent is expecting it, though, and so he steers his horse clear around the other side of the tree before shouting “Race you home!” and taking off._

 

***

 

Days on horseback with little to nothing to eat save dried bread and meats and next to no sleep is not very conducive for thought, Laurent finds. At least not coherent thought. Though the last few hours have been better than most, as his mind has stopped running in it’s shocked circles and seems to have settled - mostly. He’s still trying to think upon the role Nikandros must play in the grand scheme of the Siege for his name to be so familiar to Laurent but alas he’s no closer to figuring it out. Perhaps…. After some sleep and a proper meal things will come to him.

Their arrival in Abydos is small, the village is easily seen in the distance and as they get closer very few people raise their hands in greeting or salute their armored soldiers and none come close enough to speak. They’re all rushing about doing tasks of their own that make them far too busy to call out to a small contingent of soldiers. Laurent wonders where the lord of the village must be, for clearly he’s the one that Damen and Nikandros have gone out scouting under the orders of and therefore they must answer to him now that they’re back. But Laurent doesn’t see anyone who he theorizes could be a lord, or Kyros as they were called in Akielos.

Damen had haltingly explained that the Lord, or Kyros as they were called in Akielos, of Abydos was a man named Meniados. Akielos was split into provinces, just like Vere, and Abydos was basically the capital city of the province of Sicyon. This meant that everything that happened in Sicyon had to go through Abydos, and therefore Meniados’ approval and cross examination. Sicyon had its own section of army that it trained as well its own farmers, teachers, craftsmen and other such daily life jobs. The province was responsible for most of the grain, which had originally been Delpha’s main contribution but had fallen to Sicyon in its absence. Most of the grain stayed in province, but any extra they grew was used in trade with other provinces and even the Crown for extra supplies and sources.

Sicyon was the farthest north, except for a small portion of the province of Aegina, and as such was the coldest province come winter which made it the province with the largest variety of trees as well. Trees that could be harvested for wood which could be used to make paper, and sap that could be turned into useful oils.

Damen explained that many provinces had two primary sources of income and Meniados looked after it all. He collected the taxes for the province. He spoke with any and all of the citizens with problems and disputes that didn’t need Crown intervention to solve. He oversaw the training of the province’s soldiers and the training of their trades. The welfare of the citizens spread far and wide across the province fell to the Kyros. With Meniados looking after everything from inside the province, this kept the Crown free to deal with things of a higher importance or concern. When production was lower than expected due to fire or flood or other such disaster it was Meniados who went to the Crown to bargain for leniency in taxes, and even help if needed.

Though the position was one of power and strength it was a voted on position. The people voted for who they wanted as Kyros but very rarely did it change. Even the general populace was aware of the pressures and stresses that the rank brought with it and most didn’t wish that weight upon themselves. Typically, when one Kyros stepped down it was either their son or daughter who stepped up to take over. They’d been around the Kyros their whole life and had observed all aspects of the job and how to do it properly. The province populace knew this and would then vote the man or woman into the position. It was a seldom thing when people were unhappy with who the next Kyros was to be. But when it happened there were trials and smaller voting rounds to find someone the citizens thought was suitable.

The Crown rarely interfered with the provinces’ decision and instead let them come to their own solutions on the role despite the fact that when someone was voted in as Kyros they were automatically given a seat on the Akielon council.

Meniados had been voted in as Kyros of Sicyon long before Damen had been born, and it looked as though he’d be Kyros for a long while still and with good cause. The townspeople Laurent observed on the way into Abydos all seemed to be happy and healthy and well taken care of, even on the brink of war as Akielos was. It was a testament to the Akielon government and its system.

Before they’d gotten close enough to see the people as more than tiny pinpricks in the distance, the men had all straightened in their saddles. All canteens of alcohol were put away, packs were looked over from horseback and then looked over again for any imperfections or mistakes in their presentation. Chlamys’ were donned all around and straightened out, Damen had even put on a cap of some kind - Laurent hadn’t gotten a decent look at it before it disappeared behind him and onto Damen’s head.

Their entrance into Abydos was slow and steady, their arrival into Meniados’ castle much the same although this time they get more nods of recognition. Someone even calls out to Aktis and Elon, who give grins and wave to the group of men across the courtyard. Nikandros leads them across the small courtyard inside the castle walls to a set of stables where they all jump down from their horses and lead them inside. The outside ground is wet with mud from the previous few nights of rain and when Laurent hops down from Damen’s horse it splashes beneath his thin shoes. When Aktis dismounts he lands in a particularly deep puddle that splashes all over Laurent’s trousers. Aktis smirks at Laurent before turning away and leading his horse into the stable after the others.

“Naos!” A deep female voice calls and Laurent watches as a women shorter than him by many inches comes out from a dark doorway and into the white light of early day. Her skin is dark like a deep stained oak and just as warm. Her face is split into a wide smile and her eyes are darker than the night sky. Her hair is long and just as dark as her eyes, braided intricately and half of it tied up while the rest fell in long loose curls.

“Thea!” Damen calls back and Laurent blinks in confusion. Did she just call him Naos? In mere moments she’s crossed the courtyard and has Damen leaning down to give her a one-armed embrace. She grabs his face in both her hands and tuts, sounding exactly like many of the nannies that Laurent had tried to torment in his youth.

“And what trouble did you get into now?” She asks and he gives her a sheepish shrug, wincing slightly with the movement but hiding it admirably. This is when Laurent decides to step in.

“He decided to dislocate his shoulder, then use that injured shoulder in a battle against bluecoats and got shot. Also on that same shoulder.” He snipes and the woman turns to look at him with a look of mild surprise. She turns her eyes back to Damen and Laurent watches one of her eyebrows rise.

“And he decided to bring a Veretian into the heart of Sicyon.” She states dryly and Damen gives her what he thinks must be an affronted frown.

“You know Nikandros was in charge of this mission. It was his choice to keep Laurent.”

“Aye, but I bet it was your choice to share your horse with him.” She fires back and Damen goes back to looking sheepish.

“He helped me with my arm, Thea, come on. Was I supposed to let Nik just strap him to the back of someone’s horse like the prize of some hunt?”

She rolls her eyes but let’s Damen go and instead turns the full force of her attention on Laurent.

“Fine. But on your head be it when Meniados finds out.”

“Anthea. It’s not like we’ve brought a bluecoat or redcoat, Laurent is a doctor. He said he’s treated both Akielons and Veretians in war.” Damen tries to reason, and Anthea puts her hands on her hips. She looks to be no older than her mid-thirties but the way she holds herself makes Laurent think she may be older than even that. She’s also surprisingly built but based off the Akielon’s he’s seen so far Laurent thinks that maybe it’s just something in the water and everyone in Akielos was bursting with muscles.

“Do you think we can get him some proper clothes?” Damen asks and Anthea stays silent for a moment before sighing. Her head tilts from side to side and she frowns before reaching out and grabbing Laurent’s hands in both of hers.

“Aye and I think we can get him something to eat as well, if he’s been stuck with the lot of you for any portion of this trip. Poor thing, we’ve got to get some meat on those bones. I thought all Veretians loved feasts? Where have they been keeping you?” She asks and Laurent blinks at the sudden acceptance of this Akielon woman.

“I can’t speak for my countrymen, madame, but I haven’t been to anything resembling a feast in quite a few years.” he says, diplomatically, which is true. Who knows how the Veretians right now are eating and he personally had been under the same rationing the rest of the army had been under for the past few years. Even after the war had ended, no one in his house had been in any mood to throw feasts, not with how sick both Aleron and Auguste had quickly become under Byron’s plotting. He’d hardly been hungry at all, trying to avoid being in the same room as Byron for any stretch of time and preferring to sneak down to the kitchens late at night when he knew no one else was awake.

Anthea tuts at him and he blinks at her, feeling all of five years old again and as if he’d tried to escape off to some part of the castle without his father’s permission.

“I’m certainly no madame, lad. Call me Anthea, I’m the head cook here and we can get you sorted right out. The Commander didn’t bring you in chains which makes you a guest. And you’ve helped our dear Naos here, which makes you a rather special guest. We’ll take good care of you.”

She wraps an arm around his shoulders and starts steering him off towards the dark door she came from. Laurent gives a startled look at Damen who grins. Laurent mouths ‘Naos?” at him and he puts his pointer finger to his lips, winking. Well. That’s no help. Another thing to try and figure out.

Wait.

Laurent digs his heels into the dirt for a moment and Anthea looks down at him. He shakes his head.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he starts, because just because he made his nannies’ lives hell doesn’t mean he didn’t learn his manners, “but I really can’t eat something just yet. I’m supposed to clean D---Naos’ gunshot wound and check on his shoulder. He passed out and fell from the horse right onto it on the last stretch of our journey early this morning. I think he could do with some food more than I, anyways.” He says and she gives him a thoughtful look before twisting back to face the stables, her arm still over Laurent’s shoulders.

“Naos!”

Damen looks away from his horse and towards her expectantly.

“Finish putting your horse away in the stables and then make your way to the guest room. Apparently the good doctor here has some more treatment to do and you are also in need of a meal.”

Damen opens his mouth, probably to protest if the look he casts towards Nikandros and Pallas is any indication, and Anthea cuts him off before he can start.

“I’ll not hear it, the Commander is perfectly capable of making his report without you two attached at the hip. And you all will need to clean up before meeting with Meniados anyways. You _will be_ in the guest room.” She orders, entirely sure of herself and Damen’s shoulders slouch for a moment.

“Yes, Thea. Which guest room?” He answers and Laurent can hear Lydos snickering from behind Pallas, even halfway across the courtyard as he and Anthea are. She thinks about it for a moment before pointing at him.

“The one on the far West, right above the old surgery.” She says and Damen gives her a deferential nod.

“As you wish.”

Anthea immediately turns around and begins frog marching Laurent into what turns out to be the castle’s kitchens.

“Lykaios!” She calls and a girl emerges from the crowded kitchen with nary a sound. She’s as pale as Laurent himself is and her hair is a fair as Lydos’ but more wavy than curly. Her eyes are as dark as Anthea’s.

“Yes, Auntie?” she asks quietly and Anthea turns to look at Laurent.

“What will you be needing to help Naos?” She asks and he thinks on it for a moment. Finally. Someone who’ll listen to his medical orders.

“I’ll need some clean cloth, a needle and thread, a pot with water that can be put over a fire, and some alcohol. Stronger than wine, ideally.”

“Alright, we should have all that around, Lykaios can you grab that and bring it to the guest room in the west wing?” Anthea says, already busying herself gathering breads and fruits in a small basket. The girl gives a nod.

“The one above the surgery?” She asks, and Anthea gives a dip of her head in confirmation. Lykaios slips away just as silently as she appeared and Laurent has only a moment to ponder how she manages to do so before Anthea is grabbing his hand in one of her’s and tugging him along through the kitchens. The kitchen is full of men and women with a few younger boys and girls speckled throughout and every single person goes silent as Anthea drags Laurent past them. They watch the scene curiously but not with any outright anger in their eyes or their stances. There are some men in soldier leathers leaning in door frames or along walls that watch him with more suspicion.

Laurent tries to pay attention to all the twists and turns they take to get to the guest room but he loses count after the first 3 lefts and the 4th right. Meniados’ castle seems to be far larger than it appeared from the outside and Laurent doesn’t know how he’s going to navigate it enough to form an escape plan. Especially when every hall they turn into seems to have at least three or four people in it, if not more. With a castle so populated, and a town so populated, it will be harder for him to leave with no one seeing him and being able to come after him. Perhaps at night time once he’s familiar enough with the castle, he can get out to the stables and take a horse far enough to the Veretian border on Delpha to get help from Veretian soldiers to get back to Marlas.

He’s not sure what the exact year is, though he knows it must be between 1740 and 1747, because those were the years of the Siege of Delpha, and clearly that is what was currently going on. He hasn’t been able to get a solid idea of whether or not the end of the war is near or if he’s managed to land himself in the beginning of it. Fresh out of one war and right into the start of another is not ideal.

Anthea helps him get set up in the guest room with little fanfare. The room is simple, but probably far nicer than where they would’ve thrown Laurent had they wanted to keep him as a prisoner, with a small table and a chair that are simple wood. The bed is the most austere thing in the room and that’s only because it’s got a frame that rises up from the four corner posts to create a large frame. There are dark grey curtains hanging from it that surround the bed, but are currently tied back to reveal the matching grey set of sheets and pillows. There is a single window that when he looks out all he sees is fields with small specks of people working the land.

Anthea pulls some small rolls of bread from the basket she grabbed and she sets it up on the small side table in the room. She pulls out some apples and what appear to be apricots as well as a flask just as her niece, Lykaios, knocks at the door. Anthea bids her entrance and she hands the medical supplies to Laurent with a dip of her head.

“Naos is on his way up here, Auntie.” She informs Anthea before she turns and silently leaves the room, not a single glance spared Laurent’s way. Perhaps not all the kitchen staff are so indifferent to a Veretian presence in their home.

Laurent gets Anthea’s help in setting up the pot of water so it can be boiled in the small fireplace that is embedded in the wall opposite the door. She shows him how to start a fire and how to build it so that it burns slowly but steadily to help warm the room up. She says she’s going to show him where to gather firewood tomorrow so he can stock up. She tells him that this guest room hasn’t been in use for a while, so it’s not as stocked as it would be. Despite the surplus of travellers due to the war, many of them are soldiers who aren’t granted leave to sleep in the guest rooms of the Kyros and instead sleep in the barracks of the training center where the other soldiers sleep.

There is another knock on the door just as Laurent is threading his needle and putting it in the water, wrapped in a small piece of cloth so he doesn’t lose it or the thread, to help sterilize them. When Anthea calls for the visitor to enter it’s Damen who ducks under the low frame of the door and into the room. Anthea gives him an approving look which makes Damen’s lips twitch but he gives her a slight bow as she makes her excuses to leave.

“Be sure to escort our guest to supper when he’s done with you, Naos. I’ll send someone up with some clothes for him.” She says lightly as she slips out the door, not even bothering to wait for an answer before the door is shut behind her and Damen and Laurent are alone in the guest room together. Damen blinks at him before giving him an apologetic smile.

“I will gladly escort you to supper, Doctor, but I believe that first the Kyros will insist you be brought to him so he can meet you for himself. He’s unlikely to simply take Nikandros’ word for your character.”

“Mm yes. Your illustrious Commander.” Laurent says back, observing how Damen reacts to the words. He holds Damen’s gaze for a moment before turning to look into the pot where the water is just slightly starting to wiggle with invisible bubbles. Still a while yet, then, till it’s boiling. He cuts up a few more pieces of cloth and places them in the pot, motioning for Damen to grab the single chair and bring it over to the fire. He obeys after a slight pause.

Laurent looks up at him from where he’s kneeling beside the fireplace.

“Take off your leathers, I’m going to stitch the bullet wound and then rewrap your sling.” Damen doesn’t question him, already unbuckling what he can with his left hand. Laurent helps him get the rest of the buckles and to slip the leather off along with the dirty sling. He lifts the small bit of cloth he’d left under the leather and leans in to look at the entrance of the bullet wound. It looks slightly inflamed and red around the edges, but it doesn’t look like it’s extremely swollen or red either. It simply looks like it’s a fresh injury. The water is finally close to boiling and so he uses a wooden spoon he’d doused with alcohol to pull some of the cloth from the water. He pours alcohol on it, cooling it slightly, before wringing the excess out on the wooden floor and putting the cloth up to Damen’s shoulder. Damen flinches but doesn’t say anything as Laurent sets about cleaning the wound and the surrounding shoulder in hopes of stopping any infection.

“Why did she call you Naos?” He asks quietly and he can feel Damen’s eyes on his face. Damen is silent for a moment before answering.

“There are people who can’t know that I’m here.” Laurent feels his brow furrow.

“Here in Sicyon?”

“Here in Abydos.” Damen corrects.

“Why not? Is that why you’re wearing that ridiculous cap?”

“Yes and that’s…. Complicated.” Damen says, his voice amused and Laurent finally looks up at him.

“The men we came with, they all called you Damen.” He says and Damen’s lips twitch.

“That…” He sighs. “That is what my friends call me.”

“And what should I be calling you?” Damen holds his gaze for a short moment before Laurent forces himself to break their gaze. He pulls out the cloth bundle holding his needle and thread and he douses both in alcohol before giving Damen a single warning look and beginning to sew the wound shut. This should help keep outside things from getting in easier, technically Damen doesn’t need to be stitched up because he’s stopped bleeding. But just like with the dislocated shoulder, Laurent feels that Damen will forget he’s even injured and somehow manage to shove something unfortunate into an open wound so he’s closing it.

Damen takes a deep breath, whether it’s to brace himself or to give him time before answering, Laurent doesn’t know.

“I suppose, Doctor, that you can call me both.” Laurent stops in his suturing.

“Pardon?” He asks, confused, and Damen turns to look down at him. Laurent meets his warm brown eyes for a moment before flicking his gaze away.

“When we’re in public, around the others, call me Naos. Even Pallas, Lydos and the others know to do this. But when it’s just us, you can call me Damen.” He says, his voice even and quiet in the room beside the crackling of the fire. Laurent shakes his head slightly, finishing up the entrance wound and standing up. He looks down at Damen from his new position and Damen tilts his head back to look up at Laurent past the brim of the cap.

“You’ve hardly known me two days and you think I should be privy to this information?” He asks and Damen shrugs. “You can hardly have a solid idea of my morals. How do you know I won’t go telling the entire village?” He pushes.

“I think I have a rather good grasp on your morals, actually.”

“I’m not your friend.” He protests, finally, and Damen’s lips spread into a small grin.

“Not yet, Doctor, but I think you’ll find that I’m particularly determined when it comes to making friends.”

“Even with Veretians?” Laurent challenges and Damen doesn’t give an inch.

“Especially with Veretians, or at least the ones who heal me on a regular basis.” He adds and Laurent can’t help but let out a small huff of a laugh.

“If only you put that determination into making sure that I’m not having to treat you on a regular basis.” He says and Damen gives him an impassive look, shrugging. Laurent lets go a small amount. He doesn’t think he should, but he finds himself trusting that he can talk freely with this Akielon soldier. Damen had known he was trying to run and hadn’t told his commander. Perhaps Laurent could grant him this one thing. It wasn’t like Laurent was going to be here any longer than he could help, anyways.

“Fine. Damen in private, and Naos in public.” He says and Damen’s smile grows wide.

“Are you sure you can handle that, Doctor?” He teases and Laurent rolls his eyes.

“If your fellow officers are capable I can assure you and I am even more so, soldier. Now I’m going to stitch up the back of this and then we’ll put the bandages and the sling on and you’ll be good as new.”

Laurent finishes with his tasks in a comfortable silence and Damen doesn’t make a single sound of discomfort the entire time, which is admirable. Laurent has known quite a few soldiers older than Damen seems to be who would have bitched and moaned to high heaven if they had to get stitches without anesthetic. He’s not even sure anesthesia has even been invented yet. Laurent unravels the chlamys and wraps it around Damen’s shoulders like a blanket, tucking it into itself so it won’t fall down or unravel.

“I don’t want you wearing anything but lighter, looser shirts for this next week, it could aggravate the shoulder and the bandages. I want you to keep your right arm in this sling, you can take it out when you sleep but try to sleep propped up so that you don’t put lots of pressure on your arm or have the opportunity to twist it in weird ways while you’re unconscious. No armor for the week, no sword fighting bluecoats, nothing too strenuous. I’ll change the bandage every few days with a fresh one. Try not to get them completely filthy, please. I don’t want to be wasting all this effort now only for you to be an idiot and to die of infection.” He finishes and Damen gives him a curious look, head tilted to one side like a small puppy.

“No one in my family has died of an infection yet. It’s not in our blood.” He says and Laurent goes to tell him that it doesn’t work like that when there’s a knock at the door for a third time. It’s the concerned rider, Pallas, who sticks his head in.

“Hello. Damen.” He nods to Damen first and then to Laurent before coming completely in the room with a signal from Damen. His eyes seem to stick on Damen wrapped in only a chlamys like a large blanket. He’s holding a small stack of clothes. “Anthea told me to bring these up and to get both of you to go to the baths quickly. Meniados is expecting to meet you before supper.” Pallas says to Laurent and Damen gives him a smug look at having predicted what was probably an entirely inevitable outcome. Laurent gives him an unimpressed look.

“Thank you, Pallas. I’ll make sure the good doctor gets washed up and brought to Meniados.” Damen says, standing and holding his left hand out for the pile of clothes. Pallas hesitates for a moment before handing them over and giving Damen a small bow before backing out of the door and disappearing down the hallway. Laurent tilts his head to one side, eyeing the clothes in Damen’s hand.

“I’m honestly afraid as to what those will be.” He admits lowly and Damen snorts, putting them on the bed.

“They’re likely better than whatever it is you’re wearing now.” Damen shoots back and Laurent glares at him while he stalks forward to pick at the clothes.

There’s quite a few pieces to the garment, which once unfolded looks unlike anything Laurent has seen anyone but a mannequin wear. The mannequin had been part of an exhibit in a museum. It’s like an explosion of laces atop the coverlet and Laurent tries to figure out how the outfit works. He sees what look to be a relatively normal set of trousers, if not in a far older style than Laurent has even worn and even then there are eyelets for laces going up the outside of both legs. There are two shirts, one a lighter color and a thinner material much like the ruined shirt he’s currently wearing. The other shirt is the same color as the trousers with even more places that need to be laced up. It looks like the outfit is supposed to be practically sewn onto it’s wearer via laces.

“Come on, you can admire it after you’ve bathed and put it on. If we’re any later than we’re already going to be then Meniados will have a fit.” Damen says as he opens the door and steps out. Laurent gathers the clothes and laces in his arms and follows warily.

 

***

 

The baths had been an awkward affair, there had been women and men already in some of them and Laurent had balked for a solid moment before Damen had nudged him forward. In the army there had been a shared bathing area, but it was mainly set up with lots of separated shower stalls. This was set up more like a few groups of deep pools where everyone was unabashedly naked and soaking up the warmth like cats in spots of summer sun.

Laurent had given Damen a quiet but stern dressing down as to how he wasn’t to get his sling or his fresh bandages wet and Damen had huffed but seemed to listen.

It wasn’t only local men and women of the castle who were in the baths either. There were people off to the sides dressed in soft translucent silks and speckled with golden paint, gold adorned their wrists and ankles in thin bands and they sat kneeling to the side. Their knees were wet from water that had been splashed out of the baths and onto the cool marble floor but they didn’t move or rearrange their clothes so they wouldn’t get wet. Laurent had frowned and quietly asked Damen who they were and Damen had looked around for a moment, confused, before Laurent had motioned towards them. Damen looked baffled.

“Those are the castle slaves. Most are from Meniados’ house, but Nik has some here to serve him, they serve only who Meniados wants them to serve.”

Slaves.

That’s right. Akielos had had slaves until years after the alliance with Vere had been agreed upon in 1747.

Laurent felt a sinking in his gut as he looked at them. Men and women who had been trained from birth to not have a single thought for themselves. He turns away from them, his throat thick. He’d completely forgotten that Akielos had slaves. And even someone like Damen, who Laurent thought might not be a bad man, had thought nothing of their presence. He’d even forgotten about them to the point that Laurent had to point them out as being the source of his question.

Laurent had gotten into the baths and cleaned himself with a single minded attentiveness that he didn’t usually have to apply unless he had spent the day fighting against Byron. Damen was silent in the pools beside him as he also cleaned off what he could of the blood and dirt from his trip. Laurent helped him clean around the bandages and sling with a detached state of mind and when he gets out of the baths one of the slaves has risen silently to come over to him.

“The Kyros has insisted we help his most esteemed guest prepare for supper today.” She says with a musical voice. From up close Laurent can see that her hair is as fair as Lydos’, a light caramel in color, and that her skin is almost the exact same color. Her face is speckled with dark freckles and her eyes are a dark green. Her silks are the same color as her eyes, and they are currently translucent enough that if Laurent so much as looked anywhere but at her face he could have easily seen all of her body beneath the thin layers. He can hear the dripping of water as it falls from the wet fabric at her knees down her body and to the floor.

He accepts her help and pays as close attention to the steps she takes to lace him into the new clothing as he paid to Paschal’s first few lessons in medicine. He asks for her name and receives it. Hagne. He thanks her for her service and she bows to him while never once meeting his eyes. It’s taken quite a while for him to be laced into the clothes even though Hagne’s hands had been very agile in their task, and he can feel the eyes of the other men and women in the baths on him. Probably jealous of him being served by one of Meniados’ personal slaves or hating that a Veretian was being served by one of their own. He struggles not to flinch away from her touch.

When Hagne has walked silently away and the other slaves have all stood and filed out after her, he turns around and looks for Damen. Damen is dressed in an old style greek outfit, much like a toga but Laurent remembers someone in his history class calling it a chiton, once. Damen has also been looking at him with furrowed brows and a certain look in his eyes that Laurent can’t decipher.

Now he’s being led down the maze-like hallways of the castle, Damen a few steps ahead of him, and his brain is too full of static to try and focus on remembering all the turns and twists Damen is leading him down.

He’s been wondering at how a society who has always prided themselves on honesty and integrity could have slaves as such a huge part of their culture for so long that they think nothing of it. That to have a slave, as a noble, was a given. To train all thought except for obedience and complete submission out of a child and to find that normal.

He’s pulled from his shock by Damen stopping before him and knocking on a large wooden door. He pushes it open without waiting for an answer and Laurent slowly follows him in. Unlike the baths this part of the castle is entirely made of stones that had been cobbled together and built brick by brick. The room is simple and yet it also shows the station of the man who owns it.

There is a large desk, dark red and solid with next to no decoration, and a matching chair behind it. There’s a large fireplace on the opposite side of the room from the door, a fire crackling away inside it. There are two windows, one to Laurent’s left and one to his right, and he can see that it is still quite light outside. There are bookshelves surrounding the walls with windows, and they’re all overflowing from top to bottom with books and scrolls. The desk is covered in open books, a half-unrolled map of Akielos and Vere, and a stack of papers with an inkwell and a quill beside them. It looks as though someone had been in the middle of writing a letter and had gotten up for a break. There was no one in the room.

“I thought you were taking me to meet with the Kyros of Sicyon?” Laurent asks and Damen turns to face him, his mouth opening to answer when a different voice speaks from behind Laurent, and makes him jump just slightly.

“He is. I simply had to step out for a moment.”

Meniados steps around them both and goes to stand behind his desk for a second before he sits down and looks up at Laurent, practically ignoring Damen beside him.

Meniados is dressed in a chiton similar to Damen, and with a chlamys wrapped around his neck and falling down his shoulder in a half-cape form. It’s a deep and dark green in color. Like Hagne’s eyes. Meniados himself looks to be in his late fifties, his dark curly hair is littered with greys and his face is wrinkled around the eyes and mouth. There are echoes in his face that bespeak what he once looked like. A strong jawline, now accented with a short grey beard, and his eyes are a brown so dark it’s almost black but there are crows feet framing them. His body is still in good shape though and if Laurent had to guess he would say that this man is still easily capable of killing someone, if not with the same speed and fervor he would have had in his youth. His eyes are sharp and assessing as they stare Laurent down and Laurent refuses to be cowed under them. He distantly reminds Laurent of Byron, which sets him on edge.

“I have a question.” Laurent states and Meniados raises an eyebrow.

“I would be surprised if you had only one, Veretian.”

He says the last word slowly as if he would really like to sneer it with the outward disgust that Aktis was not afraid to show, but that he was old enough now to try and show that disdain in other ways.

“Where did these clothes come from.” Laurent starts with, just to be contrary. It works. Damen looks abruptly confused and Meniados looks vaguely annoyed.

“A fallen Veretian soldier, most likely. I didn’t gather them myself.”

“No, but you had them in storage and readily available for the moment your men would kidnap a Veretian?”

Meniados’ eyes flash.

“My men were under orders to scout, it was their decision to bring you back here. I was told that you helped one of their number, multiple times, the Captain informed me you were not a prisoner and were to be treated as a venerable guest. That doesn’t sound like someone who’s been kidnapped to me.”

“As I had no say in the matter and was taken from where I wanted to be with no options given of returning I would say that I am, currently, being held prisoner - it doesn’t matter how much you decorate a cage, it is still a cage.”

Meniados leans back in his seat and spreads his hands, palms up, with a small grin.

“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have a Veretian in my home at all. You can take your grievance up with the Captain over that. But what’s done is done, and now you’re here. And while you’re here you will be my guest, you’ve already met some of my household and you’ll likely meet the rest at supper tonight. I insist you sit at the table with the Captain, that is where all my esteemed guests sit.”

“I don’t want to sit with the Captain, I want to go home.” Laurent says and he watches Damen shift in the corner of his eyes. He keeps his eyes trained on Meniados, watching as he leans forward and clasps his hands together before putting them down on top of the letters. Laurent watches them move for a second, his eyes flickering to the top of the page when he sees it - even from upside down it’s entirely legible.

July 14, 1746.

Fuck. He’s in 1746.

He forces his eyes back up to watch the Kyros who doesn’t look to have noticed his small lapse in attention.

“And where is home?” Meniados asks, his voice calm.

“That sounds like a trick question.” Laurent answers back with an even tone. He watches Meniados’ lip twitch.

“I’m not about to storm up north and slaughter whatever backwater village you spawned from, snake. I asked you a question, all I’m expecting is an answer.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m going to give you one.”

“Doctor.” Damen interjects and both Meniados and Laurent turn to look at him. “If you truly wish to go home, I’m sure there is a way to make it happen.”

Meniados does not look amused at the suggestion of losing his Veretian captive by a lower soldier. And yet he doesn’t order Damen into silence. Instead all he does is starts a staring match with the man, and only when Damen raises an eyebrow does Meniados secede. Laurent watches the moment with confusion.

First, Damen has almost clear authority over a Captain, or was it Commander, now he’s almost giving orders to a Kyros and the Kyros is… listening?

“I cannot guarantee him anything unless I know where he’s wanting to go, Naos.” Meniados says and Damen turns to Laurent.

“Where did Nikandros pick you up? Where was it that the redcoat tried to assault you?”

Laurent give him an unimpressed look.

“Marlas.” Meniados says. “Nikandros said he picked the Veretian up near Marlas, but that he already looked filthy and like he’d been running through the forests for a bit.”

Laurent isn’t sure how Nikandros could tell that from a single moment of seeing Laurent, but Meniados seems to believe him.

It’s silent in the room for a few minutes while Laurent thinks things through. Either he can tell them he wishes to go back to Marlas with the possibility of them actually agreeing. Or he tells them he wants to go to Marlas and they don’t take him. In both scenarios, he’s revealing where he really wants to go, which could be dangerous information to hand over to these Akielons, especially one like the Kyros. The man has already admitted to a dislike of Veretians, which is understandable when his country has been at war with Vere for six years now, but Laurent is a Veretian with absolutely no standing or power to try and convince the Kyros to let Laurent go. And Meniados seems to be a man who respects power.

Perhaps, he can convince them he’s been travelling around as a doctor near the border but that he’s been mainly working out of Fortaine. Fortaine was but a few hours walk from Marlas, maybe less if he can borrow a horse from a decent soldier. So. Fortaine it is.

“I’m expected in Fortaine. I had been travelling back and forth between Delfeur and Arran helping anyone who needed it, but my goal was Fortaine. I had been led to Marlas because of the soldiers stationed there. I wanted to check with any physicians about their supply levels before heading back to Fortaine to relay if anything was needed.” he says, and it’s not entirely a lie. He had, at Fortaine, been in charge of medical supplies and speaking to and sending out supplies to stationed physicians along the lines. He’d just been doing that about 200 years in the future.

Meniados gives him a look, his dark brow furrowed and his face blank. He waves Damen away and Damen looks like he’s going to protest when Meniados raises an eyebrow.

“I wish to speak with him alone for a moment. And then I’ll be dealing with you.” Damen glowers but slowly turns and leaves the room. Silence rings between Laurent and Meniados for a minute after the door clicks shut and then Meniados is standing up, easily inches taller than Laurent even in his older age.

Meniados rounds the desk and comes to stand before Laurent, looking down at him with a hint of contempt. “You have said you are expected in Fortaine but you neglected to mention where your home was and there was something in your eyes that leads me to believe you aren’t telling me the truth. I will follow in the Captain’s wishes, for now, and you will be a guest of the House of Meniados. In a fortnight there is a merchant who passes all the way from Ios to Arles and back again throughout the year. Perhaps he can be convinced to take you along for the ride, at least as far as Fortaine. I’ll be keeping an eye on you until then.”

“For someone who claims to not want a Veretian in your home, you seem very reluctant to let me leave.” Laurent can’t help but retort, a knee-jerk reaction to the low threatening tone Meniados has been using at him.

“You won’t be here long, Veretian. I suggest you watch yourself. Not everyone is as highly trained as my men, the probability of you running into trouble among the townsfolk is high.” Without another word he turns his back to Laurent, a sign of not seeing him as a threat, and walks back around his desk. He doesn’t sit back down. “Tell Damen to come in on your way out.”

Laurent grits his teeth but doesn’t say anything, turning on his heels and pulling the door open. Damen is standing just outside it, leaning against the wall and looking not at all worried about the potential lecture he’s going to receive from his Kyros. Laurent is sure that if it were any of the other soldiers he’s met, even Aktis, they’d be looking nervous. Although Laurent is also sure they wouldn’t have tried to go against Meniados in front of a Veretian hostage either, so Damen appears to just be special in that regard. Special, or especially stupid.

He doesn’t even need to tell Damen the last words the Kyros had said to him because Damen is already brushing past him and closing the door to the study, leaving Laurent plunged into the relative darkness of the hallway. Laurent can hear muffled conversation, easily distinguishing the lighter cadence of Damen’s tone from the deeper timbre of Meniados’.

To his left he can hear the shuffling of footsteps on stone floors and he turns to watch as a slave slowly makes his way down the hallway, a single candlestick held gently in his hands. He’s identifiable by the gold wrapped around his neck and wrists and his thin clothing. He stops every few meters, lighting lanterns along the way. He spares but a single glance Laurent’s way, looking at his feet and bowing slightly before stepping past and lighting the small torches on either side of the study door. He continues down the hallway, leaving warm orange light in his wake. When Laurent turns his attention back to the study it’s to see the door opening.

“Try to think, Damianos.” Laurent can hear Meniados say quietly through the small crack in the opening of the doorway. Damen swings the door open completely, not looking behind him as he steps out into the now fire-lit hallway.

“I am thinking, Kyros. Are you?” He says, his head tilting just slightly back and making it clear he’s addressing Meniados but that he’s done with the conversation. He reaches out and puts a hand on the small of Laurent’s back, turning him in the opposite direction the servant with the candlestick had gone. “Come, Doctor. Let’s get you something to eat.”

Laurent twists just enough to get Damen’s hand off his back but lets himself be led away from the study and the Kyros inside it. They travel down the labyrinth of hallways, going up and down sets of stairs and the closer they get to the dining area the louder the sounds of the castle become. Laurent can hear the sounds of laughing, cheering, and conversation along with the scraping of wooden chairs on stone floors and the clinking of dishes.

If Laurent had to guess he’d say that the heart of the castle was the dining hall. It was easily the largest room he’d been in, with the kitchens being a close second, and it was just as tall as it was wide. There were long windows covered in hazy pieces of glass melded together with metal that are easily twice as tall as Laurent is embedded into the walls. There were multiple long wooden tables set up in neat rows running lengthways down the hall that are uncovered by cloths and loaded down with plentiful platters of all kinds of foods. There is a single long table at the head of the hall that is set against all the other tables and is clearly meant for the Kyros and his family and guests, despite being of the same height as the rest of the tables. It isn’t raised above the others, it’s seats are the same wooden chairs as the chairs set at the other tables but it is turned width-wise and therefore is overlooking all the rest of the hall.

Laurent recognizes Nikandros sitting at the head table off to the left and between two empty seats. One of the seats is clearly meant for Meniados, who enters the room and is greeted with a small fanfare from his soldiers and his people. He moves slowly towards the table, stopping to speak with many men and women along the way. To the right of his empty seat there sits a woman in a dark green flowy dress with her hair intricately braided and twisted atop her head like a crown. Beside the regal woman there are two young children, a young boy and an even younger girl, both of whom are leaning close together conspiratorially and giggling. The woman is watching them with a small smile, her eyes flickering up to Meniados every few moments before returning to rest upon her children. This must be Meniados’ family.

Damen must have taken them down a side entrance to the dining hall, for Meniados hadn’t crossed their paths once before entering the hall, and Damen stops them before they enter. He points to the empty seat on the other side of Nikandros.

“You’ll be sitting there, as a guest of the House of Meniados.” He says quietly, looking down at Laurent and waiting till Laurent gives him a nod of acknowledgement.

“And where will you be sitting?” He asks and Damen gives a small jerk of his chin towards the back of the hall furthest from the head table. People are running about back and forth in his view but Laurent gets quick flashes of what looks to be Pallas, Lydos, Elon, and Aktis at the table Damen had indicated to.

“Try not to start any fights.” Damen says and Laurent rolls his eyes.

“Try not to need any more bandages.” Damen starts to walk away but Laurent stops him, a thought popping into his head. “Wait!” Damen stops and Laurent frowns.

“The kyros, he called Nikandros Captain and so have the lot of you, but Anthea called him Commander. Which is it?” He asks and Damen gets an amused look about him.

“You’re very perceptive. Technically Nikandros is the Commander Akielos’ army. He reports to the King and only to the King. But. He’s also the Captain of the Prince’s guard. Those of us who are closer to him call him Captain but he’s also a Commander. So it simply depends on which capacity you know him, and who you’re talking about him to.”

“That seems mildly confusing. Why not call him by one rank?” Damen shrugs and Laurent waits for an actual answer. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to get one, though, so he sighs before stalking forward into the dining hall. Conversation around him comes to a halt as his appearance is registered. Meniados has just taken his seat at the head table and so everyone’s eyes now swivel to pay attention to Laurent’s arrival. Laurent swallows, trying to ignore the whispers and the glares, as he straightens up and begins walking towards the empty seat beside Nikandros.

When he looks around he notices that most, if not all, of the Akielons here are all of the same features. Dark skin, dark hair. There are a few exceptions but the majority is far more staggering. Laurent with his pale skin and light gold hair must stand out starkly as showing where he was from. The extensively laced clothes probably also helped complete the picture. Here he was. An outsider. In their village. In their castle. He could hear it whispered like a curse. _‘Veretian’._

He holds his chin high and walks calmly till he’s a few feet before Meniados. He stops and carefully lowers his eyes in a clear and public show of deference. He gracefully bows, rising a second later and is motioned by Meniados to take the seat beside Nikandros.

“Laurent of Vere, please, take a seat.” Meniados calls, his voice calm but projected loud enough to be heard by all in the hall. It is completely silent as Laurent walks around the long table. Nikandros stands and gives him an amused glance, pulling Laurent’s chair out for him and waiting till Laurent is seated to push it back in for him. Laurent finds himself gritting his teeth once more and trying to push similar acts of deference he’s committed from his mind.

 

* * *

 

It’s Anthea who leads Laurent back to his room when night has well and truly fallen and dinner is still underway for those who wished to continue falling deeper and deeper into their cups.

He spent the night dodging a barrage of questions from Meniados that he thinks were supposed to be subtle but really weren’t. The Captain hadn’t helped one bit and instead seemed to be either egging the Kyros on or asking pointed questions of his own and watching Laurent squirm away from them. They’d offered him wine and he’d politely declined but when the food had been brought around he’d eaten his fair share with minimal teasing from Nikandros when something was spiced more than Laurent had anticipated. As the hours had dragged on Laurent was surprised to find his eyes constantly seeking out Damen in the crowd. He wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to be surprised when Damen’s eyes met his just as often.

“I’ll come get ya bright and early in the morning so we can fetch some wood for your rooms. Meniados has told me to try and keep you busy while you’re here and we’re definitely not short of jobs so make sure to rest up. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.” Anthea says brightly and Laurent gives a soft laugh at her enthusiasm.

“Thank you for taking me to my rooms. I’m afraid I have no idea how to find my way around.” Laurent says and she laughs, patting his arm.

“It’s alright. It can be quite the confusing place when you’re new. It’s very amusing watching newly stationed soldiers try to make their way to meetings with Meniados when they’ve got no clue where they’re going.” She whispers to him and he grins at her. There’s something about her that soothes him in a way. Probably how similar in temperament she is to his old nannies. They’d always been looking out for him, even when he was being a particularly difficult child. Especially then, really.

“Have a good night, doctor.” She says and he gives her a small wave before opening the door to his room and slipping inside.

Once he’s closed the door he rests his back against it and just breathes for a moment. He’s had no time to himself to truly come to terms with what’s happened.

In just a few days he’s gone from 1946 to 1746, where he’s been attacked and kidnapped and now taken as a guest (hostage) deep in Akielon territory by one of the most powerful Kyroi of the time. Although it was really Nikandros who had taken him hostage. He was stuck in a labyrinth-like castle with people who hated his country and countrymen because they’d been at war with them for the past seven years to gain back what was historically their province in the first place and then there was Damen. Damen, or Naos, who was hiding who he was from the people of Abydos for reasons he didn’t want to explain and whom Laurent couldn’t figure out.

Wait.

Damen. Naos.

Hadn’t… Hadn’t he heard Meniados calling him Damianos back before they’d gone to supper?

Damianos as in the Warrior Prince who almost single-handedly won the Siege of Delpha and then carried on to create and uphold the alliance with Vere even through the immediate First Patran war that occured because of said alliance?

Him being the Prince of Akielos would explain the subterfuge, as bad as it was, and even the fact that he almost automatically took the lead against people like Nikandros, a Commander in the Akielon army, and Meniados a Kyros. Both men were clearly in charge, but Laurent had seen them both defer to Damen in smaller moments with little to no resistance. As if they’d never think of trying to put him in his place like they would anyone who was a real soldier. Even the others, Lydos and Pallas especially. They seemed almost uncomfortable in addressing Damen with such familiarity. And when Pallas had come to bring Laurent his new change of clothes he’d bowed to Damen and not wanted to hand the clothes to him personally.

It was probably far beneath Damen’s station to be escorting someone like Laurent around a castle. Laurent is also pretty sure he’s given Damen a few orders himself as a medical professional, though he hasn’t been acting entirely professionally since coming back in time, and Damen had looked entirely too amused about it. As if he’d never had someone so brazenly call him an idiot and threaten him and order him to do things. Oh gods. Laurent had ordered about the Prince of Akielos. And he hadn’t been killed for it. He doesn’t even know what to do with this information.

All the while these thoughts are running wild through his head he’s picking at the laces of his outfit until he can slip out of the garments. He leaves the large cotton shirt on as a sleep shirt, and he adds the last few logs he’s got in his room onto the fire before he crawls into bed, exhausted.

Maybe tomorrow he can confront Damen to see if he really is the Prince. Although Laurent has no clue how he’s going to go about it.

He falls asleep as soon as his head touches the pillow.

 

***

 

The moment of confrontation that Laurent had loosely planned did not, in fact, happen the next day. Laurent’s first full day in Abydos was spent running around and following Anthea as she went about her daily duties. She woke him up when the sun was just starting to lighten the sky and helped him get changed into a new set of Veretian clothes (still just as tightly laced as the first set) and then they’d been off to the races.

They collected a fairly decent pile of wood for his fireplace, and then she’d taken him into the kitchens where she had him chopping fruits and vegetables for breakfast. He’d eaten breakfast in the kitchens with some of the kitchen staff before Anthea ‘loaned’ him out to the stablehands. There he spent the better part of midday helping muck out the stables and brush dried mud out of many horses coats. Then he’d been stolen back by Anthea to have a quick lunch before she’d taken him around the back to the gardens and he’d spent the rest of the daylight weeding with Anthea’s niece, Lykaios, and a few other people.

Most of the Akielons Laurent had met thus far in Abydos were quiet at first, talking amongst each other in murmured Akielon, but as Laurent had worked alongside them in silence they’d also slowly accepted his presence  and his help. In the stables Laurent had surprised them by knowing how to remove a saddle from a horse and brush it down efficiently and properly - even without a bristled brush which hadn’t been invented yet apparently. In the gardens he had surprised the Akielons by easily kneeling down in the dirt and digging his hands right in, reaching deep to pull weeds from the garden by their roots. He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, or any other part of himself.

He figured they had thoughts about how Veretians were and had likely never actually met one except as an enemy across a field - and even then only the soldiers would have really travelled far enough north for that.

He had then followed the others from the garden and back into the kitchens, talking quietly with Lykaios about what kinds of foods grew readily and easily in this particular region of Akielos. They’d been in the kitchen but for a moment before Anthea had whisked him off to help him tidy up before supper and then she’d escorted him to the dining hall.

Laurent spent another night at the head table, seated to Nikandros’ right. Meniados mostly ignored him this time, speaking mainly with his wife and with any people who came up to the head table to engage him in light talk during the meal. Nikandros had left not long after finishing his food and when Laurent’s eyes inevitably found Damen’s in the crowded hall Laurent noticed that Nikandros was now seated amongst the small group of soldiers with Damen in the far back, half hidden in dim shadows.

The next few days passed much the same, with Laurent given hardly a moment to himself except for late at night after he’d been escorted to his room by a helpful Anthea after supper. It was on his fourth day in Abydos that he listened with half an ear to Anthea explain his tasks for the day while he ate a breakfast of porridge with grapes and strawberries mixed in. She was lacing up the back of yet another Veretian outfit that Laurent had yet to wear. Every morning she brought a new one, and yesterday she’d had a strong young man bring up a trunk where Laurent’s other outfits were stored.

It’s only when Anthea starts talking about news of the war that Laurent sits up straight and wakes up enough to pay attention.

“Apparently Prince Kastor is planning to go to Karthas to join Makedon in fighting off wayward Veretian groups. They’ve been getting bolder as the years have come and gone, and recently they’ve been trying to push further south from Delpha into Sicyon.” She says, offhandedly and Laurent tries to remember what he knows about Prince Kastor. It’s not much, the main effects of his knowledge being that Prince Kastor had ultimately killed his father, the King of Akielos, and had betrayed his people by siding with an unknown Veretian noble to try and kill his brother, which hadn’t worked. Damianos had had Kastor killed for the treachery of killing their father, along with many loyal Akielon soldiers in his quest for power.

Damianos, who was currently somewhere in Abydos, playing at being a common soldier. Not in his capital keeping an eye on his scheming brother.

“Anthea.” He interrupts and she makes a noise of acknowledgement. “Some of my tasks are going to have to wait, I need to check on Naos’ and his injuries. His bandage needs to be changed and his stitches checked over.” He says, turning to look at her. She finishes her lacing, tucking the edges of the away beneath the neck of his coat, before she looks down at him.

She nods.

“I’d almost forgotten the lad had been hurt on the scouting mission. He hasn’t complained once about the sling, or the shot. I think if he’d been any other soldier he likely would have. I’ll give you some time to tend to him and check on everything. But I’ll expect you in the gardens as soon as you’re done.” She says, giving him a stern look and he smiles up at her. Her stern look melts away into a bright, answering grin.

“Of course, Anthea.” He says, nodding his head and she rolls her eyes.

“Ya might as well call me Thea, lad. Everyone else does.” She says, gently nudging his shoulder as he stands and he gives her a low, mocking bow.

“Of course, madame.” He says and she swats at his head.

“Get out of here, brat. Go see to Naos.” She orders and he ducks out of the room before she can find some other spot on him to swat. She still reminds him very much of the nannies that helped raise him, except now that he’s old enough to understand her role and to not throw temper tantrums, he finds himself warming to the elder Akielon woman far faster than he’s warmed to any stranger before. He was but a few months old when his mother died, and so he’d never really had a solid mother figure in his life, but he figures that Anthea is rather close to how a mother would act.

In his few days here he’s managed to memorize the path to a few rooms in the castle. He knows his way now from his room to the kitchens, and from the kitchens to outside where the stables are inside the castle walls, and where the garden is and how much land it covers. He also knows how to make his way to the baths unaccompanied, and to the washing room.

The washing room was where he was currently headed. Much like the baths the washing room was on the main floor of the castle and was also made of marble. It was connected to the same set of pipes that carried heated water to the baths. The washing room was for washing clothes, though, instead of people. Laurent had spent almost an entire day down in the washing room once where he’d helped stomp soap into the castle’s clothes and bed sheets and then helped to wring them out and hang them outside to dry in the midday sun.

Now he enters the washing room and ducks around corners until he can slip out the door to the outside. There he finds one familiar face in a woman named Helen. She’s Anthea’s daughter and she is often outside while her mother is inside. She’s in charge of the upkeep of the garden and the washing room, while her mother is in charge of the kitchens. Laurent flocks to her now, as she plucks dry sheets from clothing lines and folds them before placing them in the large wicker basket beside her. Many other men and women are doing the same, taking down the previous night’s laundry to prepare the lines for today’s.

“Helen.” He calls, slightly out of breath and she turns at the sound.

“Joining us again, Doctor?” She asks and Laurent shakes his head, coming to a stop beside her.

“Not today, at least not in the washing room. Anthea told me to go to the gardens when I could, but right now I’m checking up on a soldier, Naos? He was shot a few days ago and I need to change his bandages. I’m wondering if you have any clean cloth to spare?” He asks and she gives him a small smile.

“In fact, we do. The Kyros has had us cleaning out the room beneath yours. It used to be the surgery for the physician we had here a few years ago. The room still has lots of her supplies. We’ve gathered all the extra cloths from there and they were just washed last night, actually. Esdras has the basket of them just over there.” She points a few meters away to a young man wearing a light blue chiton.

“Thank you.”

“We’ll see you later in the gardens, Doctor. And then you can tell us all about the young Naos.” She winks and Laurent feels his cheeks heat. He hastens away to Esdras, taking a few clean cloths from the basket before hurrying away. He can feel Helen’s eyes on his back and he wills his blush to go away. He doesn’t know why it’s there, all he’s doing is changing bandages.

He ducks into the kitchens to grab a small flask of alcohol and just before he’s about to duck back out Nikandros comes in from a different door, one that leads directly to the dining hall, actually. Laurent pauses before walking over to him.

“Captain. I need to check on Naos’ shoulder, you wouldn’t happen to know where I can find him, would you?” He asks and watches as Nikandros grabs a fresh bread roll, leaning away from one of the kitchen staff who tries to swat his hand for the theft. He tosses the roll into the air once and catches it before taking a bite.

“He’ll be out in the field, just past the sheep. Meniados got in a few new horses, he’s been helping to break them in.”

The temptation is very strong to ask Nikandros how a Prince would know how to break a horse in but he reigns in the snark and instead gives a small nod before turning to dash off. Anthea stops him with a hand on his arm and when he does pause she wordlessly hands him a wicker basket with a wink. It’s got a small selection of foods inside it and she waits until he grabs hold of the baskets handle before leaning in close to him so no one else can hear.

“Make sure our Naos gets some food, would you? He’s almost never in for breakfast.”

Laurent highly doubts that, because a man of Damen’s size and stature surely must eat heaps and heaps of food to maintain the physique, but now he’s been given an excuse to stay out longer. He can finally pull a few answers from Damianos.

It’s easy enough to find him, while most of the inside of the castle is still a mystery to Laurent, the outside fields and town are easy to navigate. He makes the short trek out past the gardens and further out the field. There’s a small wooden paddock wrapped around half of the farthest field on the castle property (everything past that is local farmers’ fields) and it’s currently occupied by a handful of horses and one or two men. Damen is easily identifiable amongst them, even more so when Laurent gets close enough for Damen to notice him.

“Doctor!” He calls, holding up a hand in a wave and Laurent shakes his head in exasperation but continues forward, climbing onto the wooden fence and sitting on top of it with his basket for a moment. Laurent partially recognizes the other man in the paddock, he’s always been very loud at suppers, and very jolly. Now he’s got a serious face on, and all of his attention is focused on the horse he’s got on a short lead. He’s barking short Akielon commands at it and watching as it chooses to follow some and completely ignores others with a snort and a wild wave of its head.

Damen has been making his way around the edges of where the trainer has the horse, and he quickly and efficiently reaches Laurent. Laurent can see that he’s been following some of his orders from a few days ago. Damen’s wearing a light cotton shirt tucked into a simple set of dark breeches, which isn’t the standard outfit Laurent usually sees on the local Akielons. But Laurent had told him to wear a light shirt. However, Laurent also distinctly remembers telling him to keep the sling on, and Laurent can’t see a single sign of it anywhere.

He says nothing, opting instead for raising an unimpressed eyebrow at Damen. Damen puts his hands up, palms out towards Laurent, in surrender.

“I’ve been going easy on it, I promise.”

“Sure you have, soldier. Anthea gave me leave to come and check on your injuries this morning, she also has sent along a small feast and insists that you eat something.” He says, hopping off the fence and into the paddock.

“How’d you know where I was?” He asks, taking the basket from Laurent and leading him to the only wooden building inside the paddock. It looks like a simple stable with three large walls and a roof overhead, and the missing fourth wall is obviously the door in and out. It’s tall enough for someone on horseback to easily go in and out, and when Damen leads him inside he can see that there are no lines of stalls like a normal stable, and instead the whole place is open spaced. The three wooden walls are only tall enough to reach Laurent’s shoulders, everything above that is gone leaving all the surrounding fields easily viewable from any angle inside. There’s a single horse inside the building and it’s not even tied to any of the posts to keep it in place. It’s a beautiful golden filly that’s calmly grazing on small patches of grass that grow in the light the large glass-less windows let in. Laurent spends a small moment admiring it before turning to face Damen.

“Nikandros told me.” He says.

“Oh.” Damen blinks for a moment before turning back towards the other man outside. He says something in Akielon and the other man doesn’t pause or even turn to look at him, waving him away with a hand and answering back in Akielon. Laurent frowns. If he wasn’t leaving in less than two weeks back to the stones, he’d be worried about not knowing what everyone around him is saying sometimes. Damen leads him deeper into the building before sitting down on the ground and motioning for Laurent to do the same. Laurent does after a moment, slowly lowering himself down across from Damen so he can see him head on. Damen is already digging around in the basket pulling out small apricots and biting into them slowly, as if savoring their taste.

“I do actually need to check on your bullet wound, you know. And I need to check on the shoulder you’ve clearly been abusing.” He says and Damen shakes his head.

“I told you, I haven’t been. I’ve been being gentle with it, like you told me to.”

“I told you to keep the sling on.” Damen frowns and wipes at a stray line of juice that runs down his chin. Laurent blinks and looks to the ground, reaching out and plucking at a few lines of grass.

“It’s quite hard to do anything with it on.” He grouses and Laurent looks up to give him the driest look he can manage.

“That’s the point.”

Damen shakes his head.

“I can’t just sit about and do nothing.”

“Does this have to do something with you hiding in Abydos?” Laurent asks and Damen stops in his mild snacking to give all of his attention to Laurent.

“Perhaps.”

“And can you tell me now, why exactly people can’t know you’re here?” Damen gives him a slightly apologetic grin and a small, one-shouldered shrug.

“It’s still just as complicated as it was a few days ago, Doctor.”

“So that’s a no, then.” Laurent clarifies and Damen nods. “If you can’t tell me who you’re hiding from, maybe you can tell me why you’re here, specifically in Abydos, then Damianos.”

Damen freezes completely and looks at Laurent with wide eyes. His mouths hangs open for a minute and no sound comes out. Laurent tilts his head to the side and waves his hand, prompting.

“Cat got your tongue, your highness?” He teases and watches Damen swallow.

“How-- How do you my name.” He says it like a statement, not a question, and Laurent can see the tension that he’s holding tightly under the surface.

“I’m rather good at solving puzzles.” He starts with and Damen gives him a blank look so he continues, looking down at the ground and picking at the grass again, absently. “It was a few things. Nikandros is the captain of the soldiers, and yet when you gave orders he followed them with little question, and you were supposed to just be a normal soldier. When Meniados was speaking with me and I said I wanted to go home, Meniados wanted to keep me here. I’m a potentially valuable hostage. But when you said there was definitely a way to get me back to Vere, he let you. He didn’t fight against you, despite being the Kyros and clearly the one in charge here. Then there was your name, Damen, Naos? Also, Meniados said your name when you were speaking with just him in his study. Damianos. There’s only one, so far as I know, alive in Akielos with the power to give orders to Kyros and Captains of armies and have them followed.” They sit in silence for a moment, the only sound being the chewing and small huffs of the golden horse and Laurent plucking chunks of grass from the ground.

“Are you a spy?” Damen’s voice is calm as he asks and Laurent looks up, confused.

“No? I told you, I’m a doctor.”

“And yet you found out who I am and confronted me about it.” Damen says and Laurent gives him a look.

“That doesn’t seem like a very smart thing for a spy to do. Wouldn’t they want to hide from you? I just wanted to know if it was true, and if it was true and you are Damianos, which I’m pretty sure you are now, then why are you here pretending to be a common soldier and not out on the front lines.”

“It does seem like a rather large misstep to tell the subject you’re spying on that you know who they are and that they’re hiding, but I don’t know many Veretians and my father has always said they think and speak and act in circles. Nothing is ever straightforward with your people.”

“You’re calling Veretians duplicitous and yet here you are going by a different name and acting like someone you’re not.” Laurent points out and Damen sighs and shakes his head.

“This isn’t my idea, I wouldn’t be doing it if not for---” Damen cuts himself off and Laurent can see his jaw clenching.

“It’s Prince Kastor, isn’t it.” Laurent says quietly and Damen gives him a hard look.

“What have you heard.”

Laurent shrugs, and tries to think of a way to explain things without making himself seem like a crazy person. It’s not like he can just say ‘I know what Kastor wants to do, and what he succeeds in doing because I’m from the future and I came time traveling through a bunch of stones.’. Damen’s already compared his knowledge to witchcraft once, and that was minor medical things. He’s rather certain people still believe witchcraft is a killable offense right now and he’d rather not find himself burned alive.

“There are whispers on the Veretian side.” He begins and suddenly it comes to him. “It’s a common taboo in Vere,” he pauses and looks up to meet Damen’s eyes. “Bastards soil the familial lines, they’re bad omens that bring destruction and unrest. Vere has been watching and waiting as Kastor and you have both grown older.” Laurent trails off, trying to figure out how to spin the old Veretian distrust into something that could convince Damen. It’s been at least a century since Vere has actually felt badly against bastards. Their outcasting slowly stopped after the alliance with Akielos, actually. Because Akielos didn’t care whether you were a bastard or not, so long as you were a true person.

Damen continues the line for him, though.

“My father has sent me here.” He starts and Laurent sits silently, not moving. “My orders were to start with Abydos, and to make my way around to all the main cities, and a few of the others that are large enough to garner attention, and to find out who supports Kastor. We’ve known that Kastor hasn’t been happy with his position, but we haven’t been able to find any evidence that says he’s been actively working against Akielos.”

“It doesn’t seem like you want to find any proof.” Laurent interrupts and Damen’s face turns sad.

“I don’t. Kastor he-- he’s my brother. But our father has his suspicions, and he’d rather I try and find proof only to find nothing than if we never looked into it and it turned out to be true.”

“Won’t anyone familiar with the royal family recognize you?”

Damen shakes his head.

“My father is the one who meets with the people. For the past few years both before the war started and since it has I’ve been away with Nikandros. Both of us had been taking up soldier training. While it’s true there may be people who can recognize me on sight, they’d all be in Ios or they’d be in Karthas working under Makedon right now.”

“And your father doesn’t trust anyone else with this task?” Laurent asks and receives another head shake.

“We’re unsure of who in the palace may be under Kastor’s influence.”

They sit in silence, Laurent now picking invisible hairs off the bandages he’s pulled from the basket.

“Why would you tell me all this?” He asks, looking up at Damen confused. “If you thought me a spy, why would you tell me anything at all?”

Damen’s lips twitch.

“Because you asked.”

Laurent’s brow furrows deeper.

“You told me the truth, because I _asked_?” Damen’s mouth splits into a small grin and he reaches out, putting one of his hands overtop of Laurent’s. It’s very.. Warm. Laurent surprisingly doesn’t pull his hand away.

“I know that it seems rather incredible, but… I trust you. I know that you’ve got secrets you’re not telling us-” He says as Laurent opens his mouth to object but Damen waves his other hand dismissively. “I don’t expect you’re going to tell me unless you’re ready to, if you ever do tell me. But I don’t think your secret is that you’re a spy for Vere or for my brother.” Damen’s grin turns lopsided and Laurent can see a dimple form. “And you’re clearly very clever if you managed to figure out who I was in just a few days. I think, perhaps, that you may be able to help me.”

“While I’m here.”

Damen’s brows raise.

“Are you planning on trying to escape? Again?” He teases and Laurent gives him a look.

“I could.”

Damen’s lopsided grin grows wider and into a full-blown smile. His dimple gets deeper. Not that Laurent is paying attention. Damen pats his hand once, lightly, before pulling his hands back to himself. Laurent tries to tell himself he doesn’t, weirdly, miss the weight. He mostly succeeds.

“I don’t doubt you could, given enough time and resources, but clearly since you’re not then tell me what other plans you’ve got.”

“Meniados is letting me go.” Damen gives him an impressed look.

 _“Really?_ ”

“Really. There’s a merchant that travels between Ios and Arles throughout the year. Apparently he’s going to be coming through Abydos towards the end of the month. I’m going to be going with him to Fortaine.”

“Well I wish you luck on your trip then, Doctor.” His smile softens somewhat and he looks sincere so Laurent is surprisingly sincere back.

“Thank you. I’m… Looking forward to going home.” Damen’s head dips in acknowledgement, his curls glinting in a spare ray of sunlight.

“A journey that many wish to make when all of this is over, I’m sure.” Damen unfolds his legs and slowly stands up, brushing pieces of hay and grass off his breeches before holding his hand out for Laurent. Laurent looks from his hand up to Damen’s eyes and raises a single brow. He’s holding out his right hand. It was the right shoulder that he injured. Damen seems to realize this and he huffs out a small laugh, pulling his hand back and holding out his left. Laurent reaches out to take it and pulls himself up into a standing position as well.

“Thank you, Doctor. For the food and the conversation.” He says and Laurent holds up a hand.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, Damianos.” Damen’s head tilts to the side and Laurent holds up the bandages. “I think you’re forgetting the main reason I came here.” Damen sighs.

“I really don’t think it’s necessary. I feel fine. And I’m truly hurt that you didn’t make the long trek out here just for the pleasure of my company, I’ll have you know, Doctor.”

“If I had wanted pleasurable company I’d have come for the horses, and please,” Laurent pauses. “Call me Laurent.”

Damen gives him a soft smile and partially bows his head and shoulders. “Of course,” He says before looking up and directly into Laurent’s eyes. “Laurent.” And Laurent… Isn’t sure how he feels about this.

“You. You may as well sit back down, and your shirt needs to be off.”

Damen’s smile turns wolfish.

“First you grant me use of your name, and now you want to see me shirtless?” Laurent rolls his eyes, shoving lightly at Damen till he sits down.

“I’ve already seen you shirtless, you barbarian. I haven’t got all day.” Damen laughs but in the next second he’s pulling his shirt loose from his breeches and tugging it over his head. He straightens up where he’s sitting and looks up at Laurent.

“I’m ready whenever you are Doctor.” Laurent gives him an unimpressed look but kneels down and gets to work. He unwinds the sling, which Damen had turned into a sort of half body wrap to hold the bandages on, and uses the alcohol he lifted from the kitchens and he pours it over the bullet wound. He resolutely ignores how the alcohol pours over Damen’s... rather defined muscles. Damen doesn’t even flinch from the contact of it and when Laurent leans in closer to check on it it looks as though it’s healing well. He uses one of the small cloths to dry it and then pours a bit of alcohol on two more pieces before putting them on the entry and exit wounds. He sighs but reties the wrap to hold both bandages down.

“I’m going to move your arm around to see and test its range of movement. Tell me if anything pinches or hurts.” He says and Damen nods, going along and letting Laurent move his arm through many different poses. Laurent gets Damen to move it himself next and watches for any signs of impingement or other potential problems. When he asks Damen tells him it’s been a bit sore near the end of the day, but that it’s been getting less and less painful every day. Laurent tells him to keep doing lighter tasks with his arm before standing up.

“That’s all I can really do now. I think in a few days you can take the bandages off, and in a few more I’ll remove the stitches.” Damen stands up Laurent spends exactly three seconds looking at the expanse of warm brown skin that motion puts on display before turning his eyes to look over at the horse that’s still grazing in the small stable with them. He sees Damen slide his shirt back on from the corner of his eyes and when he turns to look it’s to see Damen giving him an amused smile. He feels his cheeks heat and tries to push the reaction down. Damen’s a prince, and clearly a rather attractive one, he’s probably very used to people fawning over him and Laurent will not be one of those people. Not even for the short while that he’s here.

Speaking of people surrounding Damen.

“What about the soldiers?” He asks and Damen looks up from where he’s tucking the shirt back into his breeches.

“What soldiers?”

Laurent’s brow furrows and his hand flutters in front of him.

“The ones that you came here with, the ones who call you Damen.” Damen’s confusion clears.

“What about them?”

“Do they know that you’re the Prince of Akielos? Clearly Nikandros does, he’s the captain of your guard and the commander of your army. But the others, Pallas, Lydos, Elon and Aktis. Do they know?”

Damen finishes in his personal grooming and his eyes flicker between Laurent’s for a second before he nods, just once. “I was right. You are very clever, aren’t you.” Laurent just shows his teeth in a facsimile of a smile, but it makes Damen laugh. “They do know, Pallas and Lydos were training to be part of my personal guard and Elon and Aktis were training to join the palace guards. They’re technically all here with Nikandros to keep an eye on me and protect me, but officially they’re here to check on all my father’s generals.”

“Meniados is one of your father’s generals?”

“Yes. All the Kyroi are my father’s generals. The only one I’m not having to check for betrayal is the one who’s currently on the front lines, Makedon. He’s the Kyros of Ellium, which is the province that Ios is in. Makedon is incredibly loyal to Akielos, even when he doesn’t completely agree with my father he still follows orders for the good of Akielos. In fact the only person he really listens to other than my father is Nikandros. He’s not very fond of Kastor.”

“Who, Nikandros or Makedon?” Laurent asks and Damen gives him an amused look and a shrug.

“Either. Both. Nik has never liked Kastor, he’s always been telling me to be cautious around him. I don’t know why Makedon doesn’t like him, but he’s never been secretive about his general distrust in my older brother. Makedon is on the front lines with his part of the army instead of with my father because the Veretians have been getting bolder. They’ve been traveling across the border and attacking local farming villages that don’t have any soldiers to protect them. They’ve also been trying to send spies in, and Makedon and his men have been cutting that off at the source and helping protect the border. I suspect my father is going to send orders soon for Makedon to start pushing further north if things continue at this pace.”

“You haven’t been pushing into Delfeur yet?” Laurent asks and Damen shakes his head.

“No. That’s partially what the scouting mission was for. My father has sent other teams north to see how things are looking on the Veretian side. He wants to be sure of their numbers before he starts north.” They stand in silence for a moment. Laurent packing up the leftover bandages and putting them in the basket before slipping its handle over his arm to rest at his elbow.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the gate.” Damen says and Laurent gives him an unimpressed look but Damen just grins.

“Can’t have you taking off with the precious Akielon secrets I’ve just told you. I need to watch and make sure you don’t run off so I don’t need to run after you.”

“Yes,” Laurent says drily, as they start walking out of the stable and towards the gate into the paddock. The horse trainer is now leading the horse in a slow run around the edges of the wooden fence, making clicking noises to urge the horse on. “Otherwise you’d have to hoist me over your shoulder and carry me back to Abydos like the barbarian you are.”

Damen’s head tilts back with the force of his laugh and Laurent watches him for a moment before facing forward again and hiding his own small smile. It’s not hard as the next second Laurent is frowning faintly. There’s someone standing at the gate to the paddock, leaning casually against one of the wooden posts. Laurent can see lighter skin and long black hair. Aktis. When he looks back up at Damen it’s to see Damen looking at Aktis with a confused expression. Damen looks down at him while they continue walking and Laurent raises an eyebrow as if asking if Damen knows why Aktis is here. Damen slightly shakes his head.

They reach the gate and Aktis stands up, giving a nod to Damen. Damen gives him a nod back, still looking slightly confused.

“Aktis.” Damen says.

“Damen.” Aktis answers, and doesn’t say anything more.

Ah. So Aktis is here for him then, and not for Damen. The trainer calls for Damen and Damen looks to him, calling back in Akielon before looking back as Laurent opens the gate and walks out to stand by Aktis. He looks between them before looking down at Laurent.

“Thank you for coming to check on my shoulder, Laurent.” He says and Laurent tilts his head to the side, keeping his face coolly blank.

“You promised me your arms, soldier. Therefore I must ensure they’re in good health for when I decide to take them.” He says, referencing to Damen’s silly offer of growing a second arm for him to have. It works and Damen’s face splits into a grin. He gives Laurent a small bow of his head again before turning around and jogging over to the horse trainer.

Laurent immediately turns back and begins walking down towards the castle.

“You’ve been sent to follow me.” He says, loud enough that only Aktis will hear him, and when Aktis doesn’t answer Laurent stops walking and turns on his heel to face the soldier.

“Who sent you.” Laurent tries again and Aktis sneers at him.

“Not that it’s any of your business, snake, but I’m under orders from the Kyros. We’re to keep an eye on you while you’re here.”

Laurent raises an eyebrow at him.

“What could I possibly do in Akielos surrounded by Akielons? Especially so many Akielon soldiers?” Laurent retorts, his voice sharp, and Aktis just grins.

“Keep walking. I have better things to do than follow you around all day. You’re wanted in the kitchens.” Aktis says, reaching out and grabbing hold of Laurent’s arm around the wrist. Laurent tries to pull out of his grasp but the soldier’s grip is strong and unyielding. He starts walking and soon he’ll be dragging Laurent if he doesn’t walk with him, he suspects. Laurent starts walking, still pulling to try and free his arm.

“Actually, Anthea told me I was going to be working in the gardens today.” He snaps and Aktis doesn’t turn to look back at him.

“There’s been a change of plans.”

 

***

 

Laurent has been in Abydos for a week now, and things have only gotten more tiring than they were before. It turns out that all of Damen’s soldiers had been put on Watch The Veretain duty except for Nikandros and Damen, who spent most of his days out with the trainer and who only came back to the castle to eat supper with his men. When Pallas or Lydos were watching him for the day then things were easier. He could go out to the gardens or even to the washing fields and help there and keep his mind busy. But if Aktis or Elon were on duty then he was stuck inside all day. They preferred to keep him in the kitchens where they could sit and watch him while they drink and ate the day away. He never got a moment of sunshine or fresh air with them on duty.

However, him being stuck in the kitchens for longer meant that he met a few more people than he had while he was out in the gardens, as those who worked in the gardens tended to do so silently. He’d been able to talk to Anthea’s niece Lykaios more, and he’d found out that she was originally supposed to be trained as a slave, but that her mother couldn’t spare her from the household after her father and brother died in a stray Veretian attack. Now her mother and Lykaios ran their farm together with help from Anthea and Helen when they can get away from the castle to help. Some days Lykaios spends working in the kitchens, where she receives a wage that she puts towards helping their farm.

Laurent has also met a young woman, Jokaste. She’s different to any of the other women Laurent has met, mainly in that she doesn’t seem to actually be part of the household in either the staff capacity or the familiar capacity. Apparently she’s from a noble Akielon family and she left her home to start making her way to Ios, where she hopes to find a husband of suitable standing for herself. Laurent can’t imagine trying to find someone to marry simply for their money or for their station. There’s also something about Jokaste that makes Laurent unsure. She’s constantly flickering about the kitchens without actually doing anything inside them, and she’s always trying to pull Laurent into conversations.

Like today, for example.

“Doctor. I thought I’d find you here.” Laurent keeps kneading the dough he’s got under his hand and he looks up to share a commiserating look with Anthea. She gives him a grin before taking her dough and going to another part of the table, because she’s a traitor who likes to watch Laurent struggle.

“There’s nowhere else I could really be, Madam.” He says, trying to tamper down his distaste as she comes around the table to stand where Anthea had just been standing.

“You seem to be all over the castle some days and then nowhere to be seen others, Doctor. How is a girl supposed to keep track? Anyways,” She waves a hand as if banishing her previous sentence from the air and Laurent watches her flowy dress respond. He can also see Elon sitting up straighter in his seat and watching her as well, though probably for wildly different reasons than Laurent. While he may not be inclined towards women even Laurent can admire that Lady Jokaste seems to know exactly how to move and hold herself to hold the attention of anyone in the room. There’s a certain type of power in that ability and Jokaste has no problem wielding it. “I wanted to know if you had someone accompanying you to the meetings today.” She continues and Laurent looks back down at his bread.

“I’m rather certain that you’re observant enough to notice that I don’t attend any of the meetings of the castle. I’m a Veretian, I’m entirely certain it would cause a fuss that I don’t want to deal with.” She waves her hand again, turning to lean her hip against the table and angling her head towards Laurent. Laurent sees Elon watching the gracefully extended stretch of her neck.

“Come now, Doctor. I wanted to attend them today, and I haven’t got an escort. Would you really make me go alone?”

Laurent stops kneading and looks up, leaning in close to her till they’re almost nose to nose. He says his next words quietly so no one else can hear them over the noises of the kitchen.

“My lady, you’re incredibly forward and I’m assuming that that’s not something most noble ladies _are_ so it must grant you some affections born of shock and amusement, but I can promise you I have no plans to go to any meetings. So if you wish me to accompany you then you’ll have to tell me the real reason you want me to go with you. Because I also know that you wouldn’t be wasting your time with me if you didn’t have a plan.”

She blinks at him for a moment before a sly grin shows on her face.

“You’re very observant, Doctor. In fact I’d say we’re much alike, in that regard as well as others.” She says back, just as quietly and he narrows his eyes at her.

“You _want_ to make a scene.” He accuses and she gently shrugs, which causes one of the strands of her dress to slip slightly down her shoulder. Elon’s eyes follow the movement and he doesn’t seem to be paying even the slightest bit of attention to their conversation. She really is very good at what she does, he has to admit.

“Think of it for a moment, the two of us almost mirror images of each other walking into the hall arm in arm. The people would probably forget you were even a Veretian or a moment, and simply marvel in your beauty.”

“Or they’ll keep the fact that I’m Veretian very much in mind, and come to try and ‘steal’ you away both because of their jealousy of me having your arm and of some ideal of saving you from the enemy.” He says with a raises eyebrow and watches her lips twitch. She flutters her lashes at him.

“And with the attention then being solely on me as I’m taken away from you, you can slip into the shadows where a certain soldier tends to hold himself.” She says with a glint in her eye and he holds himself back from showing any reaction. So she’s noticed that he tends to watch Damen when they’re both in the hall. That doesn’t warrant any worry, unless she starts to be more forward about things. If Laurent goes along with her plan, then he can even warn Damen that there’s someone who’s been watching him at least. It’ll make Damen a little more alert and on the look-out for others. Laurent doesn’t think Jokaste knows who Damen really is, at least, just that he’s a soldier that Laurent seems to have a ‘thing’ for.

“And which soldier would that be?” He asks, motioning towards Elon. “There are four whom I currently spend my days with, as you’ve probably noticed. And I don’t have any urge to spend a second more with most of them.”

“Mm, if you think you can try and distract me it won’t work. Naos watches you just as much as you watch him, the two of you aren’t very subtle.” She teases, but there’s an undertone that Laurent doesn’t like.

“There’s nothing happening between me and Naos.” he says, leaning back out of her space and she tilts her head to one side.

“Not yet. I’ll meet you at your rooms, Doctor. I’ll be wearing something blue, tonight. So try to match.” She gives him a catty little wave as she pushes off of the table and her eyes fall to Elon just long enough to give him a dainty grin and slight curtsy before she flits away and out of the kitchen, the silks of her dress trailing behind her like butterfly wings.

Laurent ignores the looks Elon shoots him for the rest of the afternoon and he tries to struggle as Anthea kicks him out of the kitchen to go get changed. For the past few days he’s been wearing simple cotton shirts with breeches while he works, leaving the extensively laced clothing for suppers where Anthea insists he wear them. Meniados’ slave Hagne has been coming to his room at nights to help him get laced up, and every night he tries to talk to her about her servitude only to receive answers that don’t sit well with him. She insists she’s happy serving Meniados and his family, and that the other slaves would agree, but Laurent is determined to try and put a seed into her brain while he’s here that she deserves better. That they all deserve the freedom to think for themselves.

It’s been a struggle.

Laurent has just finished trying his hand with Hagne for the night when there’s a knock at his door. He waves Hagne up from where she had immediately knelt upon the floor and he checks over the laces around his arms while calling for whoever is at the door to come in.

Elon opens the door to show Jokaste in and he stands just inside the doorway while she’s inside the room with him. Hagne looks uncertain but Laurent turns to her and gently dismisses her. She keeps her eyes to the floor as she slips out the door, Elon moving out of her way.

Jokaste is looking him up and down as she walks closer.

“Well, at least someone in this place knows how to dress for the occasion.” She says lightly and Laurent looks down at what he’s wearing.

Hagne has laced him tightly into dark blue trousers with a matching blue jacket. There are accents of silver hidden in the lacing and the fabric that sparkle when they are hit at just the right angle by firelight. Even his boots are extensively laced up almost to his knee, and they’re in a dark shade close to black.

Jokaste makes a gesture as if she wants him to turn around and he gives her an unimpressed look but does a slow twirl. She nods approvingly at him when he’s once again facing her. He sees that she’s wearing a dress much like the one she was wearing earlier today, but now it’s in a soft pale blue. It’s cinched around her waist and the breezy fabric reaches the ground in artful layers. Two of the longer stretches of silk are attached at the ends to Jokaste’s wrists so when she moves it gently rustles her skirt and brings attention to how thin her wrists look. There are two more silks attached at her shoulders that fall down her back, they’re a darker blue and they make how pale her skin is stand out, while the rest of the dress softens the look. There’s paint on her eyelids to match her dress and her light blonde hair has been partially tied back from her face except for a few stray curls.

“You look lovely as well, Madam.” He says, giving her a small bow and she grins back at him, probably knowing how much he really doesn’t wish to be going with her tonight. She slips her arm in his without waiting for him to offer her his arm and he raises an eyebrow, she gives him a smug look that’s still somehow elegant on her smooth features.

“Being forward is part of my charm, Doctor. You said that. Let’s go.” She turns to Elon and gives him a small smile.

“Thank you, so much soldier, for escorting me here. I’m sure the Doctor and I can make it to the dining hall in one piece. You must surely want to get settled in with your comrades after a day spent hard at work.” She says, her voice soft and unassuming but full of warmth. Elon gives her a nod and then looks at Laurent.

“I’ll still be watching the doctor, if only to make sure he doesn’t do anything untoward to a lady such as yourself.” he says, but he lets them pass and when they make it to the dining hall he disappears into the crowd.

Jokaste was right about the effect the two of them would have, entering together as they are. Almost every eye in the hall turns to them and whispers follow in their wake. Jokaste has a small smile on her face and she gracefully leads him towards the middle of the hall. The tables have all been shoved to the sides of the room, but the wooden benches have all been set up on either side of an aisle facing where the head table usually sits. Right now there’s only four chairs there, two large ones for Meniados and his wife Medeia, and two smaller ones for their children, Persis and Aison. All of whom are currently sitting in their seats.

Jokaste pulls him into one of the middle rows and they settle down in an empty spot on one of the many benches. It doesn’t take much longer for Meniados to decide to start with the meetings and he stands to address everyone who’s gathered in the hall. He speaks Akielon to them, looking around the room and saying something that makes everyone answer back in unison with a single Akielon word. Jokaste must see his discomfited expression because she quickly leans over and begins translating everything Meniados is saying in quiet whispers.

They watch as men and women all walk up the aisle to tell Meniados of any problems they are personally having or any problems their farms are having, and Jokaste keeps translating for Laurent as they all received advice or reparations from Meniados for their troubles. There are two men who have been arguing and fighting over whose cows were whose because they both couldn’t spare the time to try and build a fence, and Meniados offered up some of his soldiers to help them both build fences and a blacksmith to go out and brand their cows with their initials so they knew who the cows belonged to. There was a young woman whose son had been drafted into the army and who was currently out with Makedon’s army on the frontline and her and her husband were both too old to try and keep their own farm afloat and so Meniados had promised them some of his own field tenders who would help them through this summer and harvest season and then during the winter there would be a more permanent solution found.

On and on this went, with people who’d lost groups of animals to sickness, or their shop in town because they couldn’t afford it during this time of tension, or there were debates between feuding families. All of which Meniados handled calmly and with a fair hand.

There’s a struggle by the entrance and Laurent turns back to see an unfamiliar face dragging Lykaios up to the front of the hall. Laurent looks around and quickly finds Anthea on the far side of the hall, watching with horror as her niece is dragged up to her Kyros. Helen stands beside her with nothing but anger on her face. A woman who must have been Lykaios’ mother, Anthea’s sister, quickly slips from the benches to stand with her daughter and try to pull her from the man’s grip.

The man speaks in rapid fire Akielon and the hall falls silent at his proclamation.

“He’s accusing her of stealing money.” Jokaste says quietly and Laurent gives her a confused look. “He’s saying he had a job she was supposed to do, and she didn’t do it properly but took the money for it anyways, and that he only found out when we went to check that she hadn’t completely done it. He says that his shop has suffered for it because he’s had to go out and complete the job, so he couldn’t be in his shop and he’s lost at least a days worth of money.”

“That doesn’t sound like something she would do.” Laurent whispers back and Jokaste delicately shrugs.

They watch as Meniados and the man speak back and forth, while Lykaios’ mother tries to speak up time and time again. When Meniados speaks with Lykaios, Jokaste translated that she doesn’t agree with the charges and that the man had changed their agreement and the job _after_ she’d already done what had been originally asked of her and paid for.

Meniados looks between them both for a moment before nodding, and saying something in Akielon that makes Lykaios’ mother cry out and Anthea angry.

“He’s decided that they both need to be punished. For they’re both typically upstanding members of the town and household, but their stories are so different that they’re both getting punishment for either lying to him, or doing what the other says they’ve done.”

“That hardly seems fair.” Laurent whispers back and she gives him a look.

“Sometimes there is no clear answer, Doctor. He can’t trust either of them in their story. Even if it happened somewhere in the middle of both stories, both of them have tried to lie about it to him, and the lying is what he’s punishing. Especially since this happened a few days ago and it wasn’t brought up with him before now.”

“What’s the punishment to be?” Laurent asks and she doesn’t answer, turning to look back at the front of the hall. Laurent follows her gaze and watches as the man is grabbed by some of Meniados’ soldiers and his shirt is forcefully taken off. Laurent looks on in horror as one of the soldiers brings out a whip and the others force the man to his knees. Another soldier forces Lykaios’ mother to the back of the hall and holds her there. Laurent flinches with each crack of the whip. The man receives five lashes, one for each day that no one came forward with this issue to Meniados. The man is released and the soldiers lead him out of the hall before coming back in and going towards Lykaios. Laurent doesn’t even notice that he’s about to stand up in protest when Jokaste lays a hand on his arm.

“Sit.” She says and he opens his mouth to retort back that surely they’re not going to whip Lykaios as well, but she just uses her other hand to point across the room. Laurent immediately sees Damen looking intensely at Lykaios and whispering furtively to Nikandros, who seems to be holding Damen back. Damen shows his teeth in a clear display of displeasure but he relaxes and steps back, Nikandros nods at him before turning to the front and stepping forward.

Nikandros says something in Akielon loud enough for everyone to hear and the soldiers stop just before they grab Lykaios. Nikandros steps forward and around the benches, walking quickly till he comes to stand beside Lykaios. He’s looking only at Meniados and Meniados seems to consider something before nodding. The soldiers let Lykaios go, and Nikandros motions for her to go to her mother, which she does with tears streaming down her face. Laurent turns to Jokaste and she gives a small grin.

“He’s announced he’s taking the punishment in her place.”

“He can do that?” Laurent asks and Jokaste nods.

“If Meniados accepts it, he can, which he did. It looks like your soldier had wanted to do it, but the Captain stopped him and stood up himself.”

“So he’s going to get whipped instead?” Laurent asks and Jokaste shrugs again.

“Sometimes. Typically, if someone is taking the punishment for someone else then it’s not whipping they get, it’s First Blood.” She says and he frowns at her.

“First Blood?”

“They have to stand there as one of the soldiers hits them till they bleed. Typically it’s as many hits as Meniados wants, and then the final one is a punch to the nose. It’s an entirely common thing to happen, most kyroi employ it.”

They fall silent and watch as Meniados calls Pallas forward. Pallas looks like he’d rather be anywhere but there right at that moment but he follows Meniados’ order after a nod from Nikandros. Laurent watches in horror as Pallas punches his captain, hitting him hard enough to almost knock him over. It’s easily over five punches, and yet Meniados hasn’t told Pallas to stop and Pallas looks even more hesitant but Nikandros waves him on. He gets hit in the stomach, in the chest, and even in the face but still Meniados stays silent. Laurent looks away from Pallas and Nikandros and sees that Meniados isn’t even looking at the scene before him, instead he’s looking directly at Damen and Damen… Damen looks incredibly angry.

Meniados says a single word and Pallas looks relieved for a second until he snaps his hand forward and hits Nikandros directly on the nose. The thump is audible even from where Laurent is sitting and he goes to stand up only for Jokaste to latch herself onto his arm again.

“Wait.”

The soldiers escort Nikandros out of the hall, blood gushing down his chiton, and Laurent can see Damen rushing down the far side of the hall towards his captain and slipping out of the hall after him. Jokaste releases his arm when someone else steps forward to bring their grievance to Meniados. Pallas is nowhere to be seen.

“Alright now you can go without making a huge scene.” Jokaste says, nodding him towards their side of the hall and he stands, ducking quickly out of the way and out into the hall. Lykaios and her mother are still out in the hall, Anthea and Helen with them and trying to reassure them, but Laurent can’t see heads or tails of either Damen or Nikandros. He opens his mouth to ask when Helen points him towards the kitchens.

“They probably went out to the stables. Naos seemed like he was about to break something.” She says and he gives her a wordless nod before taking off. He slips through the hallways up to his room for a moment to grab the basket from when he’d changed Damen’s bandages. It’s got even more clean cloth in it, and the flask of alcohol is still in there. He’s got some needles and thread as well as a few herbs in it as well. He grabs his impromptu medical kit before racing back down through the hallways and the rather full kitchen until he’s out in the courtyard. He walks quickly over the cobblestone and ducks into the stables.

There he finds Lydos and Pallas standing back while Damen is leaning over Nikandros, who’s sitting on a bench with a bundle of cloth up against his face. The cloth is completely stained red, and blood is still dripping down Nikandros’ chin. Pallas is quite clearly apologizing profusely in Akielon, and Damen is muttering under his breath. Nikandros seems to be trying to reassure Pallas.

“That was rather chivalrous of you, Captain. Stupid, but chivalrous.” He says to announce his presence and all four of them turn to him. Nikandros lowers the cloth from his nose to give Laurent an unimpressed look before returning it to his face.

“I’m surprised you even know that word, pet.” He says, his voice sounding stuffy and Laurent stalks forward, lightly nudging Damen out of the way.

“Careful now, or I won’t help you.” Laurent points out, before holding his hand out for the bloody cloth. Nikandros narrows his eyes at Laurent for a second before wincing at the pull that that expression puts on his freshly broken nose. He slowly hands the cloth over and Laurent tilts his chin back for a second to get a better look.

“Pallas.” He calls and Pallas steps forward.

“I, um. Yes, doctor?” He asks and Laurent turns his face towards him but keeps his eyes on Nikandros.

“Can you bring one of the torches over here so I can see more clearly?”

He seems relieved at being given a task to do that will help and he quickly nods and runs out of the stables, coming back with one of the wall sconces from outside.

“Thank you, just stand on the other side of Damen and hold it about chest height.” he says and Pallas hurries to listen. Laurent gently maneuvers the Captains head from side to side and up and down, looking at his nose from all angles.

“You throw a good punch, soldier.” He says to Pallas, nodding at Nikandros’ nose. “It’s broken in a relatively straight line. The nose isn’t unaligned so I don’t have to try and realign it, which would have been very painful but very necessary if you’d have wanted to be able to breathe properly. As it is, you’re likely going to get a black eye or two from the bruising, you’ve already stopped bleeding, no blood seems to be gathering in your septum, though with your skin tone I’ll probably want to check in the morning when there’s some natural light to really see.” He says while he douses a cloth in alcohol and uses it to clean Nikandros’ face of extra blood before it dries.

“I can give you a paste to put on it every night that’ll help somewhat with the pain and it’ll probably take about a month to heal.” He says, standing up and taking a step back. Damen lays a hand on his arm when he’s done and he looks up at him.

“Thank you, Laurent.”

Nikandros stands from where he’s sitting and nods.

“Yes, thank you, pet. You didn’t need to come check on me.” He says and Laurent rolls his eyes.

“I’ve already told you I’m not a pet,” He starts, and Nikandros shrugs but looks amused so Laurent knows he probably says it to tease him. “And it’s my job.” He continues. “I take care of people. Even when they don’t want me to.”

“Will you be checking on the other man, the one who was whipped?” Lydos asks to his left and he looks towards him.

“Probably, I assume Anthea is going to send me to him to check him over, but I didn’t see any blood and there’s not much I can do. I still can’t believe that that counts as your justice system here. Whipping people and punching them? That’s completely barbaric.”

Lydos looks confused.

“They don’t whip people in Vere?” He asks and Laurent has to stop before he automatically answers that _no they don’t_ . They probably actually _do_ , right now anyways.

“They don’t where I’m from.” He settles for saying instead, when really it’s a ‘they don’t _when_ I’m from’ but Lydos seems to take the message as something befuddling.

“Then what do you do to punish someone?”

“There are many forms of punishment. Which is part of the reason I prefer to deal not in hurting people, but in healing them. I’ll see you all for supper.” He says, gathering his things and ending the conversation by walking from the stables and back inside. He’s going to go looking for the other man from the altercation.

 

***

 

The next week that passes is quiet and uneventful. He removes Damen’s stitches, checks over Nikandros’ nose, and spends almost every day in the kitchens helping Anthea. Lykaios spends next to no time in the kitchens but Laurent sees her at suppers sometimes, looking over at the table where Nikandros and Damen are sitting with Pallas and Lydos. He recognizes the ‘pining from far away look’ and resolves to subtly tease Nikandros while he can about the fact that he’s got an admirer from his chivalrous act in the hall.

Laurent spends his last night at Abydos packing up what little he has into his trunk. He assumes that no one else is going to wear the Veretian clothes and he doesn’t know how long he’ll be on the road when merchants are known for making lots of stops along the way to try and sell their products, but he wants to be prepared. Anthea has even made him a basket of food that has enough in it to last him at least a week. It’s full of cheeses and breads and dried meats as well as some fruits and vegetables that he helped to harvest from the large gardens. He’s left his medical basket with her, in hopes that someone else will be able to use it.

He’s out in the courtyard when the merchant arrives, and he introduces himself to Laurent as Charls. He’s probably as old as Laurent’s father was, but he seems rather cheery and incredibly honest when he welcomes Laurent to his little group. Laurent is just about to load his trunk onto the end wagon when someone calls his name.

“Laurent of Vere.” Laurent turns and finds Meniados watching him with a blank face. “I have something to speak to you about.”

Laurent lets go of the trunk and walks around it so he’s standing face to face with the Kyros. “I haven’t got long, Kyros, Charls wants to head out almost right away.” He says and Meniados gives him a small nod.

“It won’t take long. Follow me.”

Meniados turns around and starts walking back inside, Laurent gives Charls a small smile and a wave.

“I’ll be right back.” He says before he follows after Meniados. Meniados takes him down a familiar stretch of hallways, except instead of going up the flight of stairs towards the guest room Laurent had been staying in, he goes down a flight of stairs. An unfamiliar soldier is standing outside a doorway and when Meniados opens the door, he waits for Laurent to step inside before following him and closing the door.

Meniados gestures to the room, as if for Laurent to examine it, but stays where he is just inside the door. Laurent warily does, walking deeper into the cold room. There’s a fireplace that isn’t lit, and the room itself is large. Easily twice as big as the guest room he’d been staying in had been, if not more. The walls are lined with bookshelves that are packing with jars and tools and bundles of unidentifiable things. There are at least three tables also covered in detritus and when Laurent goes closer to one to examine it it’s to see lots of different crystals and jars labeled with things like ‘lavender’, ‘dandelion’ and ‘horse dung’. He frowns and puts the jars back on the table before turning to look up at Meniados. He notices a bed hidden away in an alcove behind Meniados and a sinking feeling starts forming in his gut.

“It’s a curious little room, what’s it for?” He asks and Meniados takes a few steps into the room, grabbing a random book from the bookshelf closest to him and opening it to a random page before closing it and putting it back away.

“The last person who used it called it a surgery. They were our healer for a great many years before they were called away to their family in Aegina. Since then the room has been in a state of,” Meniados pauses, “disrepair.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Laurent adds, slowly walking around the table and back towards the door. Meniados nods and he stops a few feet in front of him.

“And yet, also, how fortunate. That this room is available and almost… waiting, when you show up, a verifiable doctor who has treated both Akielon and Veretian. Who’s even treated Damen and and the captain, Nikandros.” The feeling in his gut gets worse.

“Yes. But I’m going back to Fortaine, so sadly this room will have to wait for a healer just a little while longer.”

Meniados shrugs and when Laurent tries to slip past him he shoots an arm out, blocking Laurent’s path. He leans in close and Laurent leans as far away as he can. He can feel one of the shelves digging into his hip and another digging into his ribs.

“You won’t be leaving, actually.” Meniados says in the same tone people usually use to talk about the weather. Calm. Genial, even.

“I beg your pardon?” Laurent says and Meniados tilts his head to the side.

“You’re too valuable a resource to have, even if you are a Veretian, especially in times like this---”

“You promised me leave to--”

“Ah, I never promised you anything. I said that perhaps you could go to Fortaine with the merchant. Now I’m saying you can’t.”

“You can’t do that.” Laurent grits out, his teeth clenched and Meniados leans in even closer, a smile on his face.

“Actually, snake, I think you’ll find that I can. I’m the Kyros of Abydos, and you’ve become a permanent guest of the House of Meniados until further notice.”

He turns around and leaves the room and Laurent can see a flash of the soldier standing outside, probably watching to make sure he doesn’t try to run away. The door closes behind him with a click and Laurent takes a deep breath, turning around to look at the room that’s now become his. A cold, dark room at the bottom of a castle, in a province on the edge of a country that hates him and his countrymen. Back two hundred years in time from when he’s actually from, where his brother and father have just recently died and his uncle is trying to take over the family legacy.

Laurent's legs give out and he sits on the cold stone floor while his mind slowly turns blank.


	3. fiery mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s amazing, isn’t it.” Damen whispers from beside him and when Laurent looks away from the enchanting vision before him and up into Damen’s face it’s to see Damen looking back down at him. “I remember as a boy, hearing stories of fairies and other mythical creatures and not believing in them. When me and Nik came here and I half expected to see a faun come out from around that corner, or for fae music to start up and reel me in. It no longer seemed too far fetched, the idea of creatures beyond our understanding - magic - in a place as beautiful as this.” His eyes leave Laurent’s face to flicker around.
> 
> “I wonder if that’s why the locals think it’s haunted.” Laurent whispers back and Damen looks back down at him, his eyes crinkling with his smile. 
> 
> “Come, I’ll show you around.”

_“Do you really have to go?”_

_Auguste looks up from his bag and towards Laurent with a sad smile. He drops the shirt he’s holding inside the suitcase and stands up, holding his arms open and waiting as Laurent slowly comes into his room. He’d been leaning around the doorframe, staying in the hallway and watching silently as Auguste had stalked back and forth between his closet and his bed pilling clothes into his case. He doesn’t remember having the thought to ask, but his mouth had formed the words and his lungs had pushed them out anyways. He walks forward and leans his head against Auguste’s chest, feeling Auguste’s arms closing around him and holding him in place. He can feel the sharp point of Auguste’s chin as it rests on the crown of his head._

_“I wish I didn’t have to, Lau. I wish I could stay here with you and race horses everyday, but Akielos needs our help.” Auguste starts and Laurent sighs before speaking the familiar words simultaneously to his brother._

_“And when you’ve got the ability to lend a hand, then it is your duty to do so, I remember.” Laurent pouts, pushing his face more firmly into Auguste’s chest as if he can climb inside and stay there in Auguste’s warmth forever. If he could stay with Auguste then he could help him, could watch over him. But father had told him he couldn’t go with them to Ravenel, that he was to stay home, and he hadn’t been happy about the order._

_“What if you get hurt? What if you can’t come back home, what if…” Laurent brings his arms up and clutches at the back of Auguste’s shirt, his chest feeling tight “What if you die out there?” he mumbles into the folds of Auguste’s shirt and Auguste’s arms clutch him reflexively tighter for a moment before going back to their previous hold._

_“Absolutely not.” He says, and Laurent can feel his voice rumbling against his cheek. “I would never leave you, Laurent, I could never. You’re my baby brother. I’m gonna come back to you. I know that if I didn’t you’d find a way to make me regret it all the while dragging me back here anyways.”_

_Laurent can feel a reluctant smile pulling at his lips._

_“You’re absolutely right I’d drag you back. I’d take my horse, tie you by your ankles, then I’d drag you all the way back from Ravenel to Arles, and don’t you forget it.” He mumbles into Auguste’s shirt. Auguste must hear him, though, because he still laughs that full-bodied laugh that makes his entire body shake and his head tilt back._

_“I could never forget it, baby brother. Never.”_

 

***

 

Laurent can still hear Auguste’s laugh ringing in his ears as he sits at one of the many tables in the surgery. Anthea’s here helping tie him into a slightly less elaborate set of Veretian clothes. All his plain clothes are in a basket ready to be brought down to the washing room, along with all the sheets from his bed and any other spare clothes and cloth he’d managed to dig up while he’d been cleaning the surgery.

It’s been three weeks since Meniados had told him he’d be staying in the castle permanently and three weeks since Laurent had watched soldiers grab his trunk off Charls’ wagon and bring it into the surgery. Three weeks since he’d watched his hope of a relatively safe journey home vanish on rickety wooden wheels out the courtyard and down the dusty road into the forest.

Anthea had been sympathetic to his plight and had tried to ease his obvious melancholy by distracting him with physically demanding tasks. Oftentimes he was too tired at the end of the day to think more on things like escape plans or where he was and what exactly was going on, so he supposed he should be thanking her in that respect. Laurent has even admitted to Anthea that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with Hagne helping him get dressed into the elaborate costumes that were Veretian clothing and so she or Helen had been helping him each night to get ready for dinner. Typically he wore softer and more plain clothes, a cotton shirt and breeches, but for dinners he’d been expected to make the effort and uphold the expectations of being a guest of Meniados’.

Right now Anthea is lacing him up for the day, and not for the night, because all the rest of his borrowed clothes are filthy and he’s going to take them to the washing room to clean with the rest of the cloth and other detritus he’d found in the surgery.

Since his stay in Abydos has become more permanent he’s begun making proper plans of escape, like he’d told Damen he was capable of, on the few spare nights he isn’t completely exhausted. He’s managed to figure out the entire layout of the castle, and knows all the ins and outs of every hallway and door. He’s also figured out the shifts of the sentries who stand atop watch towers around the castle and keep watch for potential attacks and intruders. He’s been working out a way of navigating his way out into the forest that would take him to the road that would lead him back up to Marlas.

To the west of the castle there are farmers fields, and closer to the castle there is the small partial courtyard that’s used to air out the washing. To the east of the castle are the fields that hold the animals of the castle, such as sheep and goats, and further out there's the horse training paddock. To the south of the castle is where the gardens are, but it is the north that Laurent i most interested in as of late. To the north of the castle is the forest, and the road that Laurent had come to Abydos on over a month ago.

He’s been using the excuse of restocking the surgery with fresh supplies to go out and explore around the northern forests, slipping away from his guards as much as possible. He’s been leaving behind tokens to lead his way through the forest for when the proper night comes up that he can try and make a run for it.

His hand is currently closed around the delicate handle of a silver spoon as he mindlessly pushes it through his morning porridge. His eyes are focused ahead where a mirror on the wall reflects the current scene back to him. Anthea is entirely focused on the laces at his back, her brow furrowed in concentration and the tip of her tongue even peeking out between her lips. He watches her for a moment, feeling the lacing tighten and forcing his spine to straighten from its slouch.

He tilts his head to the side for a moment, watching as it catches the firelight of the candles lit on a few of the sconces in the wall that he’d lit before Anthea had come down to help him. He toys with the idea of telling Anthea the truth. The whole truth. Where and when he’s from and how he came to be here. The story has been weighing down on his chest at night like a particularly fat cat; curled over his heart and squeezing the breath from his lungs, but he hasn’t been able to push it off. His eyes lose focus as he thinks about how he would even broach the topic.

_‘Thea, have you ever heard of magic stones that help people travel through time?’_

He squints, his eyes refocusing on himself in the mirror. No, that’s probably too direct.

_‘Thea, have you ever felt like you haven’t belonged?’_

No. That’s probably too vague.

_‘Thea. Did you know that Akielos gains back Delpha and becomes so closely united with Vere that when Akielos goes to war against Patras, Vere comes to her aid not just once but twice?’_

That’s… probably too militaristic for someone like Anthea to really be concerned with. Perhaps he could convince Nikandros or Damianos with that one.

He can’t imagine telling Anthea would go very well anyways. If she didn't believe him she’d just think he was crazy. If she did believe him then she would probably think it was magic or witchcraft, and Laurent had already disavowed any plan that had the potential to have him be burned alive.

He looks away from his reflection and down at his porridge. It’s half-eaten but well mixed, he's en idly pushing his spoon through it instead of eating. He can’t quite contain his sigh and Anthea stops in her lacing to take a step up beside him while reaching out and touching his chin, turning it up so he’s facing her. She gives him a soft but sad smile, her thumb brushing his cheek once before she lets go and finishes tying the laces and tucking them away.

“What’s wrong, lad?” She asks as she steals a nearby stool and sits down at his left, facing him and leaning her elbow on the table with her head resting on her upturned palm. He shakes his head, not turning to look at her and instead looking at his warped reflection in the spoon in his hand.

“I’m just… Missing home, is all. Missing my family.” He adds, and Anthea reaches out to grab his hand, pulling the spoon gently from his grip and holding both his hands in hers. The touch is… comforting. Something he hasn’t had a lot of. She doesn’t say anything but he can hear the questions in her silence and so he answers her.

“My brother and my father were soldiers. They left to join the war when I was young and I didn’t do well with being left behind. I started training with a friend of my father’s, he was a physician, and I made a small name for myself enough to become a doctor where my father and brother were stationed. It’s… It’s been four months since they’ve both passed. They were my family and now--- Now I’ve got nothing. And I’m here, I can’t even go home.” He finishes, his throat surprisingly thick. He stares down at their joined hands, Anthea’s skin a stark contrast to his own, her hands almost the same size.

Auguste’s hands had been bigger than his. He can remember almost every moment where Auguste grabbed his hand. Trying to tug him along somewhere for an adventure, trying to twirl him into a dance, stopping him from hitting any of his classmates who tried to make fun of August. He’d held Auguste’s hands as Auguste had laid in bed, too tired to even sit up in those last few weeks. He’d been holding Auguste’s hands when he’d felt them go slack. He’ll never hold Auguste’s hands again.

Funny. How you don’t think about all the small things you could possibly miss about a person. They’re only hands, and yet…

He doesn’t feel when Anthea slips her hands out of his but he does feel when she grabs his face between her warm, callused hands, and he looks at her in surprise. His eyes are blurry. He doesn’t remember the last time he cried.

Anthea says something to him in Akielon and he opens his mouth to ask but she beats him to it.

“I’m sorry for your loss and I grieve with you.” She says quietly and he gives her a small smile.

“Thank you. I… I think I’m going to spend the day outside, today.” She gives him a soft look and nods, her hands falling from his cheeks as she stands and brushes invisible dust off her apron.

“That sounds like a lovely idea, the sun can only do you good. Why don’t you go out to the gardens? Lykaios will be checking on cucumbers and potatoes to see if they’re ready to be harvested yet, if you want to go to her.” Anthea’s expression slowly becomes sly and Laurent frowns at her.

“What.”

“Well I was just thinking, you could go see if Naos needs any help. One of the sheep decided to go for a bit of a jaunt last night, knocked the fence clean out on one side cause the rest of them decided to follow. The boys were out last night with torches and the dogs, trying to herd everyone back in. They’ll be rebuilding the fence today as well as looking for any strays.”

“Why are you so determined to have me be around Naos?” He asks as she grabs his unfinished breakfast and heads for the door. She shrugs, turning back to look at him with a small grin.

“I think the only answer you need for that question is to look at the lad.”

Laurent walks up beside her, easily nicking the bowl from her grasp and following her out the door and up the stairs, heading for the kitchens.

“Isn’t that treating with the enemy? Shouldn’t you be warning me away from your young soldiers?” Laurent asks, glad for the distraction from his melancholy even if it does come in the form of the undercover prince. Anthea scoffs, holding her apron up out of the way so she doesn’t trip on it despite the fact that the apron doesn’t even reach her knees and was clearly made for someone smaller in stature than herself.

“Lad, if Naos couldn’t handle himself around a Veretian I’m sure the Captain would have taken him with him to Karthas instead of leaving him here.” She says just as they enter the kitchen, and, lo and behold, there stand Pallas and Lydos with Damen between them, all of them on the fringes of the kitchen just inside the main door from the courtyard. Damen glances up once at their entrance, as if their movement had dragged his attention away from his soldiers for a moment, before his eyes flick back to Lydos only to immediately look back up at Laurent. Damen grins at him over the sea of people already bustling about this early in the morning and Laurent does nothing but raise an eyebrow.

He doesn’t even know when Anthea had leaned in close enough to do it, but her voice is suddenly in his ear and making him blush.

“I’m also rather certain that if spending time with a Veretian counts as treating with an enemy then Naos will be the first to fall in that line and the last to leave.”

Laurent feels the back of his neck heat and he gives Anthea an incredulous look, his mouth falling slightly open in shock. She laughs uproariously as she walks across the kitchen, disappearing into the crowd.

“Part of me wants to ask, and the other part is somehow fine with not knowing.” A familiar voice says from beside him and when he looks away from Anthea’s back it’s to see the fairer haired soldier, Lydos, smirking at him. “Doctor.” He says, grinning and Laurent raises an eyebrow.

“Let me guess; Veretian duty.” Laurent says drily, walking over to the wooden bucket where all the extra table and dinner scraps get dumped into to be fed to chickens and pigs.

“That’s not a very original name, I think you can do better.”

He dumps the last of his porridge before walking through the crowd to the large drums of water set out for washing dishes, Lydos at his heels. He dunks the bowl into the shallower water and grabs a spare cloth to wipe it down as Lydos leans his hip against the drum and looks down at him. A spare ray of sunlight has made its way inside one of the many kitchen doors, and is currently shining directly onto Lydos’ face, making him squint to see Laurent.

“If you keep looking like that, your face will get stuck that way.” Laurent says and can see Lydos grin and roll his eyes.

“If that were true, doctor, and the more your face is in one expression the more likely you are to permanently have that expression. Then the expression I’m most likely to have,” Lydos says with a lascivious wink “is---” Lydos cuts himself off with a grunt, flinching beside Laurent, and when Laurent looks it’s to see Pallas giving Lydos a dry look.

“Hello Doctor.” Pallas greets him quietly.

Laurent gives him a silent nod, putting his now washed bowl and spoon over onto a large table where the dishes remain to drip dry between meals. “Soldier.’

Pallas gives him a grin, before hooking an arm over Lydos’ shoulder and crossing his legs at the ankles. Lydos leans into the embrace just enough to make Pallas almost fall over and the two of them have a small scuffle before a passing woman smacks them both upside the head. Laurent’s lips twitch in amusement. He may be tired of the constant Watch following him, but he’s still more fond of Pallas and Lydos than of Aktis and Elon, and the feeling seems to be mutual.

“Anyways, before Lydos says whatever filthy thing he was going to say, I wanted to ask if he’d told you the news.” Pallas says, slightly out of breath, and Laurent frowns shaking his head.

“No? What news?”

Pallas grins widely and opens his mouth only to also be interrupted, this time by a deeper voice. Damianos has now joined them.

“You’re no longer under surveillance. At least, not for today. We need all the help we can get mending the sheep fence, and Meniados acknowledged that sparing one able bodied man to do nothing but watch you wasn’t very productive. He can’t afford to lose any of the flock this close to the fall season. So Lydos and Aktis are going to be going out with a group of men to scout the forest for the few lost sheep that still haven’t been found, and Pallas and Elon are going to be with me and a few other men and women helping rebuild the fence.” Damen finishes, and Laurent looks from him to the two soldiers in front of him. Lydos gives off a jaunty little salute and Pallas looks at his fellow soldier with barely veiled exasperation.

“I feel like there’s a trick part to that statement.” Laurent finally says after a moment of silence between the four of them and Damen chuckles.

“No. No trick. Although, I can’t speak for the Kyros’ motivations. Maybe he’s seeing if you’ll run.” Damen says and Laurent gives him a look.

“You don’t run when the person who opened the door is still holding the door and waiting for you to make a break for it.” Laurent answers back.

“You’re wanting to run?” Pallas asks and Laurent blinks, turning back to him.

“Meniados is expecting me to run. He’s been keeping me here for some reason. I was supposed to go back to Fortaine with a merchant who was passing through, but that’s when the Kyros moved me into the surgery. I’m not going to give the man the satisfaction of running when he wants me to run. I _will be_ going home, it’s only the matter of _when_ that is up for debate at the moment.” Laurent answers truthfully, in a voice low enough that only the four of them could hear.

Lydos looks contemplative for a moment.

“I forget, sometimes,” he says, “that you’re supposed to be the enemy.”

Laurent doesn’t really know what to say to that so he says nothing. It looks like Damen is about to say something, though, when there’s a commotion outside the kitchen doors. They’re not the only ones who go to the closest door and step out in the cobblestone courtyard to get a look and so it takes a moment for Laurent to be able to see over the few heads blocking his vision, but the sound of hooves on stone is unmistakable. The image that accompanies the sound is also unmistakeable; Nikandros.

After the night that Nikandros had taken Lykaios’ punishment, he’d disappeared. Well, not really disappeared but he’d left the castle. It was only a few days later when Laurent asked after his whereabouts in hopes of checking on his nose that Elon had said that Nikandros had left for Karthas, and left it at that. Laurent had been able to pry a bit more information out of Pallas and so he knew that Nikandros had been called to Karthas by the Kyros of Ellium; Makedon. There had been a message, supposedly, from King Theomedes that the Commander needed to see but Makedon hadn’t wanted any of the message to get out and so he’d sent for Nikandros instead of sending a rider with a copy of the report.

That had been a little over two weeks ago and Nikandros was just returning now. Laurent stood back and watched as Damen, Pallas, and Lydos all went forward to greet their friend, hugging him or clapping his forearm in an informal handshake as he dismounted from his horse. A few other soldiers called out to the Captain and he waved at them or gave them a reassuring grin. Most of the small crowd dispersed, leaving Laurent one of the few remaining.

Nikandros looked to him exactly once, after Damen had said something to him. They were far enough away that Laurent couldn’t hear a word they were saying, all the way across the courtyard and huddled under one of the outstretched roof pieces of the stables. Nikandros gave him an indecipherable look before looking back at Damen and all four men disappeared into the stables while Nikandros put his horse away. The temptation to get closer and hear what they were speaking about was great but Laurent squashed the urge and turned back to duck into the kitchen.

With Nikandros’ return his likely first stop is going to be with the Kyros and then after that it’s anyone’s guess, but if he takes all of his soldiers with him to the meeting with the Kyros then that means that Laurent really doesn’t have a babysitter that day. He thinks, briefly, of going into the forest to try and mark out more of his potential paths to freedom but ultimately decides against it. He’s rather certain Damen said there was going to be a group of people combing the forest for lost sheep and if he is found too far into that forest with no guard then people will definitely become suspicious. He’s just going to have to hope that no one stumbles upon his markers and takes them down, as it is.

He heads for the gardens. Perhaps he’ll spend the day in almost silence with Lykaios to throw the Kyros off his tail.

 

***

 

It takes three days for Laurent to find out what Nikandros had gone to Karthas for. Elon and Aktis were entirely tight-lipped about everything and both had actually been placed as his guards for the two days directly after Nikandros’ return to Abydos. Usually Laurent only had to deal with one guard, not two, and especially not Elon and Aktis both. Laurent wondered for a moment what he’d done to earn the scorn of the Kyros before dismissing the thought. Meniados hadn’t needed a reason to dislike him or make things difficult before, he sure didn’t seem to need one now.

On the third day he manages to corner Nikandros using the excuse of looking at his nose and checking on its progress. Lydos had been with him and he’d been very amused at the entirely unsubtle questioning that Laurent had tried to use on his Captain. Just before supper he slips away from Lydos and goes out to the stables where he knows Pallas will be.

Despite the rumor mill spitting out that Kastor is making his way to Karthas to help Makedon push forward the front lines, it is actually Theomedes who is on the move. Kastor has been left behind to oversee Ios in the King’s absence while Theomedes makes his way north to join his Kyros in strengthening and advancing their forces. While Theomedes is on the move north he wants Damen and Nikandros to move south. That’s all Pallas had told him (all he’d been willing to tell him as he didn’t know that Laurent knew who Damen actually was) but he was able to see what was going on and what the likely course of events was meant to be.

Damen and Nikandros were supposed to continue in their original mission; getting information on whether or not Kastor is trying to betray his father and half-brother.

Theomedes is to be a distraction so Nikandros and his group can pull information from anyone they need without being in the spotlight. Any strangers looking for information will be quickly overshadowed with the stress of a potential visit from the King of Akielos. Word is also spreading that the Crown Prince Damianos is also travelling north with his father to Karthas, which will help keep Damen from being recognized by only the smallest of margins. It’s a rather brilliant plan, if not a bit obvious to those with a little more inside knowledge of the situation.

Apparently Meniados is now planning a small feast for the end of the week when Damen and his group of guards leave, under the guise of calling it a moment of freedom in such a tense time and a way to pay back all his people for their help and harvest this season. The castle was abuzz with preparations. There is to be a big hunt in the morning where the days catches will be cooked and eaten that very same night.

Laurent sits at the head table beside an empty chair, Nikandros having long since abandoned the place of honor to sit with his Prince, palming a chalice filled with chilled water. Meniados has even left the table and is now sitting with his Captain and a few of his higher ranking soldiers, likely discussing the upcoming hunt. Laurent steadily brings his cup to his lips, taking a small sip as he contemplates the new knowledge.

It was reasonable to assume that Damen and his people were going to leave early in the morning the day after the hunt, long before the sun had even come above the horizon. They are headed south out of Abydos, out of Sicyon in general actually. The attention of the sentries will be drawn to the south at their departure, Laurent surmised, and they wouldn’t see someone dressed in dark shades of green or brown slip out the castle gate and north into the forest. They’re also likely to be hungover, if not still drunk from the revelry of the night, so even if they do see a flash of him they’ll likely think their eyes are deceiving them in the dim morning light.

It will be the perfect opportunity.

The next morning finds Laurent coming in from the forest again, a basket of mushrooms and herbs resting in the bend of his elbow. If anyone has been paying close enough attention they’ll have noticed that his hair had been tied back when he’d left but it was now hanging freely. There is now a birch tree out in the forest with a dark leather bow tied to one of its branches. Pallas appears at his elbow, out of breath and looking at Laurent in confusion.

“I don’t understand how you can beat me back everytime, without being even slightly out of breath.” He pants, his accent thicker with exertion, pushing the main door to the kitchens open and holding it for Laurent to slip through. The answer is extensive training in his childhood, of course, but he’s not going to tell Pallas that. He and Auguste used to race through the servants halls in their home in Marches, and had made a game of appearing completely calm and not at all like they were up to mischief when they’d stumbled upon a nanny or two.

“I must be in better shape that you, soldier.” He says and Pallas huffs from behind him. The kitchens are just as busy at midday as they usually are but there’s the peculiar sound of crying coming from the far right and when Laurent turns it’s to see Anthea and Helen hugging an unfamiliar woman. Lykaios is even inside the kitchens, holding onto the woman’s hand, her mother there as well.

“Oh no.” Pallas says quietly, stepping up beside him as Laurent had come to a stop.

“What?” Laurent asks just as quietly, watching the women for a second before moving over to a free space at one of the tables. He unloads his bounty of mushrooms and even some apples and other fruits he’d found around the forest, keeping the herbs in his basket to be taken down to the surgery.

Pallas steps up beside him and helps him unload the basket, handing the mushrooms off to one of the ladies standing across from them. He nods across the kitchen, motioning with his chin towards Anthea and the other women. “That’s one of Thea’s cousins, Aglea. Her boy was sick, has been the past few days. Aglea wouldn’t have left his side unless…” Pallas trails off and the woman who’d been taking the mushrooms and inspecting them leans in, her face somber.

“It was early this morning, they’ve just managed to drag her out of the house while the body is being prepared.” The woman shakes her head, looking down at the table. “It’s such a shame, the boy was a bright, young thing. Apparently Orestes’ boy is sick too, same as Aglea’s was. He’s called all his family to come spend the next few days with the boy so he’s got all his family there.”

Laurent frowns, looking over at Anthea once more before looking back at the woman in front of him. “A boy died? And another is sick?” He asks and she nods.

“Aye, they’d been best friends too.” She ‘tsk’s before falling silent, taking all the mushrooms and giving Laurent and Pallas a nod before bringing them to a table where there’s a man chopping vegetables with a large knife.

Laurent turns to Pallas, who’s idly picking at part of the basket. “Do they know why they got sick?” Laurent asks and Pallas looks up to him, shrugging.

“I hadn’t really heard much more than the fact that they got sick, sorry.” He says and Laurent picks up the basket, putting it against Pallas’ chest and letting go, watching as Pallas brings his hands up to automatically catch it and keep it from falling.

“Hold onto that for me.” Laurent orders offhandedly before he turns around and makes his way across the kitchen. He catches Helen’s eye and he looks significantly in Aglea’s direction. She nods and steps away from the group, meeting him halfway.

“You heard?” She asks as she pulls in beside him, sparing a single glance in Pallas’ direction before turning her dark eyes on Laurent.

“Something like that. Can you tell me what happened?” Helen gives him a dry look and he shakes his head, moving his hand dismissively. “Not about that, about the sickness. Apparently there’s another boy with the same symptoms?” He clarifies and Helen nods, understanding.

“Orestes’ boy, Orion. He and Perikles fell ill at the same time but that’s about as much as I know, I’ll introduce you to Aglea and she can tell you what she knows. Oh, but she only speaks Akielon, I’ll have to translate for you.” She adds and Laurent nods. They make their way across the last bit of the kitchen and Helen stops Laurent, calling in Akielon to Aglea and motioning towards Laurent. A moment later she’s waving Laurent forward and he steps in close before squatting down in front of the woman. She’s sitting on a single small stool, her back drooped and her whole body haggard. Her eyes are bloodshot and her hands are shaking.

He slowly reaches out, putting a hand on top of hers. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He says, listening as Helen translates. Lykaios and her mother step away but Anthea stays close, her arm wrapped around the stooping shoulders of Aglea.

“My name is Laurent, I’m a doctor. I wanted… I wanted to know what you could tell me about your son’s sickness. There’s another boy, his best friend I’ve been told, who’s sick as well and I want to see if I can help him.” He says, locking his eyes with hers for a second before she looks down at her lap.

She takes a deep shaking breath before mumbling a long stream of words and Helen is quiet as she translates.

“They’d been playing at the Ruins, despite how much I’d told them not to go,” Helen starts, and Laurent goes to pull his hand away only for Aglea to latch onto it, looking back up in his eyes. Her hands are cold in his, weathered and calloused and darker than his but still cold. He can feel the trembling from her bones against his skin.

“It’s a haunted place. A dark place. They know they’re not supposed to, but most boys go anyways. Like a right of passage here in Abydos. My Perikles, he was always a smart boy and I know he would have listened and stayed away had Orion not wanted to go. When they came back they were fine, both laughing and running around, but when night hit…” Aglea trails off, shaking her head. Her breath starts hitching again and tears stream down her face as she continues,her voice thick.

“When night hit it was like he become another person. He couldn’t stop shaking and thrashing, we… We had to tie him to the bed because he kept hitting things and we didn’t want him hurting himself. He wouldn’t speak, his eyes were white. It lasted all night, coming and going as he struggled against the bindings, and when morning came there was silence. It was like he was asleep. He didn’t move, he didn’t cry. His eyes were closed and he looked peaceful, but he began to sweat and soon the sheets and his clothes were drenched. He was hot to the touch everywhere, and he wouldn’t wake or rouse no matter what we tried. He was like that for two days before he… Before he…” She breaks down into more sobs and Anthea pulls her into a tight hug. Laurent stands from his crouch.

“Tell her thank you, for telling me.” He says to Helen and she does, lightly touching Aglea’s back and she gives only a single nod. Laurent motions for Helen to step away for a moment with him and they walk a few feet away.

“Do you know where the other boy lives? Orion?” He asks and she nods.

“I do but I’ve got washing I need to watch over. I could send Esdras with you? Orestes is the local leathersmith, his shop is in town.” She offers and Laurent shakes his head.

“If it’s well known I’ll just get Pallas to bring me, thank you.” He says to her, entirely sincere, and she nods.

“I really hope you can help him in some way.” She says before turning back and joining her family once again. Laurent looks to Pallas, who is still standing by the table and holding Laurent’s basket of herbs. Laurent motions for Pallas to follow him before he leaves the kitchens and goes to the surgery.

 

***

 

Laurent spends the rest of the day out of the castle and in the surrounding town of Abydos. Pallas is able to take him to Orestes, who allows Laurent to see his son and take note of his symptoms. Orestes tells him how Orion fell ill a few days after Perikles, and when he tells Laurent of the symptoms, Laurent notes that they’re exactly the same as the other boy.

Currently Orion is in the deep, fevered sleep, but Orestes tells him something interesting that Laurent hadn’t heard from Aglea.

Apparently, these boys aren’t the only two to fall ill in such a way. Orestes tells him of how, when he was a boy, there were many others who developed the exact same symptoms. Some of them lived, but many of them died, and throughout the years and generations it’s been a not-completely-uncommon occurrence. And the one thing that all these stories have in common is their setting: The Ruins.

Out on the edge of the town and hidden in a slight valley, there are the ruins of what once was a fort or castle from the times when Akielos and Vere were one country. Commonly known to be haunted by demons and ghosts, it’s a popular spot for children to dare each other to go, and as they get older it’s an even more popular spot for teens to hang around; drawn by the illicitness of it.

Pallas drags him back to the castle for supper, the dark of night following at their heels, and Laurent is so focused on the problem at hand that he doesn’t even see Damianos until he quite literally walks head first into him. He loses his balance in the concurring tangle of his own feet but he doesn’t fall to the ground, Damen reaches out and steadies him with a hand on Laurent’s hip. Even through the layers of clothing Laurent can feel the heat of it. He tries not to automatically tense up.

“Careful there, _Xenos._ ” Damen laughs, waving dismissively at Pallas who quickly turns and makes his way into the castle before them. Damen removes his hand when he seems sure Laurent isn’t about to fall over.

Laurent squints at him. “ _Xenos._ ” He says, his lips forming around the foreign word with curiosity. His pronunciation seems to amuse Damianos. “That’s… The second time you’ve called me that.” He continues and Damen’s head tilts to one side, an eyebrow raising. “You called me that when you offered me your arms as payment for me helping you. Before we’d even reached Abydos. What does it mean?”

Damen grins at him. “It’s a word of many meanings, but to put it simply it means foreigner.” He says and Laurent gives him a flat look, which just makes him laugh. “Come on, Doctor. Dinner awaits.” He says, bowing and holding out his arm.

Laurent blinks at it for a moment, and just when it seems like Damen is going to drop his arm does Laurent hesitantly link his own through the bend of it. Laurent chances a small glance up to see that Damen’s grin has softened to something that makes a dangerous feeling flutter in Laurent’s stomach. A new feeling.

“So. You call me a foreigner and yet you offer me your arm. You’re a case of contradictions, Damianos.” He says quietly and Damen just huffs a small laugh. He seems to always be laughing. They walk in through the gates of the castle and across the almost empty courtyard just as the orange of sunset starts to wash over the eastern walls and reflect back on them.

“Where did you drag Pallas off to today, Doctor?” Damen asks and Laurent stops walking as a sudden thought pops into his head. He turns to face Damen and tilts his head back to look directly at his face.

“When you were a boy, did you used to come here?”

Damen frowns down at him, confused at the sudden subject change. “I’ve been all over Akielos as part of many travels for the Crown. Of course I’ve been to Meniados’ castle before.” He says and Laurent shakes his head.

“No, no. Not just the castle. Have you been around Abydos?” He asks and Damen shrugs.

“Sure. I used to dare Nikandros to steal away from the kyroi meetings and other boring things to run loose about the town. But I haven’t done that in years.” He adds and Laurent finally pulls his arm out of Damen’s.

“There was a boy who just recently died---”

“Aglea’s boy, yes.” Damen nods and now it’s Laurent’s turn to look confused. “Just because I’m hiding my identity doesn’t mean I can’t talk to or get to know people.” Damen says, defensively and Laurent’s expression smooths out.

“It seems counterintuitive to get to know people when you’re pretending to be someone you’re not, especially in places where they’ve seen you before and you’re trying not to be found out.” He says dryly and Damen rolls his eyes.

“They’re hardly likely to recognize me as the young prince of Akielos. I used to be far smaller than I am now.”

“With probably the same amount of brains.” Laurent adds and this just causes Damen’s head to snap back as he laughs. The dimple shows up again. Laurent stows the urge to poke his finger into it to see if it fits.

He doesn’t know where that urge came from.

“Anyways,” Laurent tries to bring them back on track. “He and another boy had gotten sick after visiting what everyone has been calling the Ruins---”

“Ah.” Damen interrupts. “Yes. I remember that being a particularly popular spot.”

“So you’ve been there.” Laurent pressed and Damen nods.

“I dared Nikandros to go in, once. We’d heard it was haunted the night before - one of the older soldiers had been telling drunken stories late into the night and we hadn’t actually slipped away to bed when we were supposed to have. Why?” Damen finally asks and Laurent turns his head to look at the castle gate.

“I have a theory. But I need to go to the Ruins, and I don’t know who my guard will be tomorrow. If it’s Elon or Aktis then they won’t let me, and I need to go as soon as possible. I think I can save the other boy, Orion.”

When he turns away from the gate and to look back at Damen it’s to see Damen watching him with a contemplative expression.

“I’ll take you. Tomorrow morning.” He says and Laurent opens his mouth to thank him but Damen continues. “But you have to do something for me.” Laurent snaps his mouth shut and whatever expression is currently on his face makes Damen smirk. “It’s nothing too big or scary, Doctor. I just want you to stay after supper.”

Which “What?”

Damen holds out his arm once more but Laurent turns and starts walking for the kitchen doors, this time unlinked from Damen.

“Come on, Laurent. Hear me out.” Damen says, easily catching up to and walking beside Laurent.

“Why would you want me to stay after dinner?” Laurent asks and Damen leans over just enough to bump their shoulders together. Laurent almost stumbles, but catches himself. Auguste used to bump their shoulders like that when they’d walk together, or whenever he felt like being particularly annoying.

“You always leave as soon as you possibly can. You miss out on things.” Damen says as they walk through the kitchens and into the hallways that lead down to the surgery.

“Yes. Because I love sitting around and watching people get drunk and make fools of themselves.” He retorts sarcastically and he can hear the huff of Damen’s chuckle echo off the stone walls around them. His neck heats as if he can feel the breath of Damen’s chuckle on it, but he knows that if he turned to look, Damen would be at least a few feet away.

“I will admit that is the typical state of affairs, but tonight there’s actually going to be some proper entertainment. Some of the men and women are practicing for the feast. They’ll be singing and dancing - performing - I think you’d like it.” Damen suggests quietly just as they reach the door to the surgery. Laurent turns around and leans back against it, looking up at Damen.

“You’ll take me to the haunted Ruins tomorrow but you want me to watch some singing and dancing in return?” He asks and Damen shrugs.

“If you don’t like it you can leave. I’m not going to actually make you stay, it’s just… You stay hidden away in here all night, I think it’d be good for you to be around people.”

“People who hate me because of the country I come from.” Laurent points out and Damen shakes his head.

“I think most of them have gotten used to you by now, actually. I used to hear plenty of plots against you when we first got here, now I only hear those plots from Aktis and Elon.” He says and it actually manages to pull a small smile onto Laurent’s face. Damen smiles back at the sight before holding out his right hand.

“Come on. I take you to the Ruins and you stay after supper. Do we have an accord?” He asks and Laurent pretends to think about it for a moment longer than necessary. He reaches out with his right hand, feeling it become enveloped in the warmth of Damen’s grip as Damen shakes their hands together exactly once. He almost tenses up, waiting for the prickling of unease to come upon him but it never does.

They stand there, holding hands and looking at each other for a moment longer than they probably should and Laurent extracts his hand slowly from the handshake. Reaching behind himself, he fumbles to open the surgery door.

“I’ll see you after dinner, Damen.” He says quietly and Damen gives him a shallow bow.

“I’ll save you a seat, _Xenos_.” He answers back and Laurent turns around, ducking into the dark room and not looking back. He closes the door behind himself and leans against it for a moment. He tries to ignore how his right hand feels exceptionally warm.

He fails.

 

***

 

That night’s meal is much the same as the others this week have been. Nikandros abandons the table as soon as he can. Meniados and his wife talk with many people. Laurent watches Lykaios watch Nikandros.

Meniados had made a speech at the beginning of the meal about Perikles and Orion, without naming them, warning parents to not let their children venture to the Ruins. But since then the revelry has been at its standard level of raucousness. However, around the time that Laurent would have normally retired, he watches as everyone slowly stands up and begins moving tables and pushing benches and chairs.

The tables are all shoved to the sides right against the walls, with a line of benches around them for anyone who still wished to eat or be able to lean against their solid tops. The rest of the chairs and benches are quickly and efficiently moved into a similar layout as the one they’d been in the night of the hall meeting. Even the head table gets pushed back until it’s against the wall with just enough room for the chairs to be sat in.

Laurent slips out of his chair as people move the head table and he stands there awkwardly for a moment before there’s a hand tugging at his elbow and he’s pulled into the crowd of people now finding new seats for themselves. Laurent recognizes the large figure Damen makes, even from the back that is all Laurent can see for the moment, and Damen promptly finds them a bench near enough to the front to see with ease, but not be right at the center of the performer’s attention.

“You don’t have to hold me the entire way, you know.” Laurent says and Damen just gives him a grin as he deposits Laurent in the center of the aisle, lightly pushing at his shoulder in indication for him to sit down. Laurent doesn’t know why, but he does so without complaint.

“I had to make sure you wouldn’t slip away.” He says, leaning down to speak almost directly in Laurent’s ear to be heard over the din of the crowd. Laurent can see a man pulling a large harp into the center of the cleared space, a stool already out and waiting for him. “Stay here, I’m going to get a drink.” Damen adds before disappearing, and Laurent flounders for a moment before sighing and crossing his legs, folding his arms and leaning them to rest on his raised knee.

Movement to his right pulls his attention and when he turns to look it’s to see Lykaios sitting beside him. She’s in a simple but beautiful light blue dress, and her light blonde hair has been elaborately braided. Laurent looks around for Nikandros only to find him all the way across the hall, sitting at the tables with Aktis and Elon.

“Hello, Lykaios.” Laurent greets and Lykaios gives him a small smile and a nod in return.

“Doctor.” Her voice is very soft and hard to hear even over the now quiet murmur of the crowd as the harpist seats himself and plucks at a few strings to test their tuning. “I heard you were wanting to help Orestes’ boy, I wish you luck.”

Laurent gives her a small bow of his head. “Thank you. I only wish I’d heard of things sooner so I may have had a chance of helping Aglea’s son.” He says back just as quietly and she gives him a nod of acknowledgement. Because he’s turned to look at her, he sees the moment when her eyes light up as she looks at whoever is walking up behind Laurent.

“Lykaios, hello.”

_Ah._

So perhaps it is not Nikandros that Lykaios has been fancying, like Laurent had thought.

“Hello, Naos.” She greets and Laurent looks at her for a moment before making a decision and standing. Perhaps he can help her out. He doesn’t know much about the laws of who a Prince of Akielos is likely to marry, but he can at least nudge Damen in the right direction and see if he could return her feelings. At least while he’s in Abydos.

“Naos. You’re just in time, it seems the show is about to begin, why don’t you take a seat?” Laurent says, stepping to the side and gesturing the space he’d just been sitting in beside Lykaios. Damen easily steps around him and sits down beside Lykaios, who looks abruptly overwhelmed at the sudden closeness of the obvious object of her affections. She looks away and down to her lap. Damen doesn’t seem to even notice.

As Laurent sits down he watches Damen subtly lean his body in towards him. Their knees almost knocking together. Damen’s one hand is cradling a cup of what looks like wine, while his other is empty and resting on the bench between him and Laurent. Before any of them can say anything more the harpist starts playing.

The sounds of the harp echo gently in the great space of the hall, and a hush falls over the assembled crowd. The melody is a slow one, a haunting sound that Laurent can feel crawl across his skin. The harpist begins singing, his voice deep and slow and full of emotion but Laurent can’t discern the words. He’s singing in Akielon.

Laurent almost startles right out of his seat when a warm breath washes over his ear and the small exposed portion of his neck. It’s Damen, and he seems to be relaying the lyrics directly into Laurent’s ear. In Veretian.

_“Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, say could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day, over the sea to---”_

“ _What---”_ Laurent interrupts, also in Veretian. _“It’s a story about travelling?_ ” he asks.

 _“In a way,”_ Damen answers. _“It’s a story about this one man who goes on a journey. At the beginning of it he’s home with his family, but through magic he touches these stones and travels through time.”_

Laurent’s heart is racing in his chest for more than one reason.

_“Does-- Does he make it back? Back to his own time and to his family?”_

Damen’s lips brush Laurent’s ear in a featherlight touch and Laurent holds himself incredibly still. Damen continues whispering to him in Veretian, a barely detectable accent painting the words in a new light in Laurent’s brain.

_“Of course he does. The rest of the song is his journey home. They always make it back home.”_

_“They?”_

_“There’s more than one story about someone travelling through stones. In fact, it’s rumored that the stones in the stories are in Delpha somewhere. People used to travel from far and wide because of the songs, trying to look for the stones.”_

Damen falls silent beside him and Laurent can’t think of anything to say, a blossom of hope blooming in his chest.

He’s not the only one. There have been others who’ve travelled through the stones. And they made it back home.

He can make it back home.

 

***

 

The rest of the night is overshadowed by Laurent’s excitement. He couldn’t have told you how many people performed, what they did, if they were any good. All he could think about was the first song, the song that shared a story like his.

_He could go home._

He barely remembers making his way back to the surgery and passing out in the bed, his jacket only half unlaced and the rest of the outfit still tight on him. He’s woken early in the morning by Thea, who is amused at the sight of him and who has not only brought him breakfast but helps him out of his elaborate dinner clothes and into his more casual ones.

It’s the day before the hunt and Laurent easily scarfs down the breakfast, thanking Thea for her help before grabbing one of the cloaks he’d found underneath the bed in the surgery and putting it on over his shoulders.

He makes his way out to the gates, sans guard, and pulls the cloak tighter against himself in the early morning chill. When he finally reaches the gate he has to physically hold himself back from smiling. Damen is back in the loose cotton shirt and dark breeches, a bundle of fabric laying over his arms which are crossed in front of his chest. He’s leaning back against one of the archway’s stone walls, his legs crossed at the ankles. Laurent feels a faint tingle on his right ear, like an echo of the feeling of Damen’s lips from last night, and he brings a hand up to brush his hair behind his ear, touching it as he does to make sure there’s nothing there. There isn’t. Damen spots him and pushes off from the wall, smiling widely and showing off a set of stark white teeth.

“Laurent.” He greets and Laurent bows his head before coming to a stop in front of him.

“Damen.” He’s looking curiously at the bundle in Damen’s arms and when Damen notices the attention he unfolds his arm and shakes out the bundle. It’s his chlamys and he motions towards Laurent with a free hand.

“I wasn’t sure if you had anything to keep you warm, it’s a bit of a chilly morning, so I brought this.” He says and Laurent reaches out to touch the fabric, pinching a small roll of it between his thumb and forefinger. It’s just as soft as he remembers it being, except this time Laurent realizes that Damen’s probably got the softest one here. It’s almost immediately identifiable as being made of higher quality material, Laurent doesn’t even think Meniados’ dark green chlamys is made of such fabric, and Laurent realizes that he hasn’t seen Damen wear it anywhere except outside the castle.

“Thank you for the thought, but whoever the last healer was they left some sets of clothes about that I found as I was cleaning the surgery. This cloak was one such item.” He says, letting go of the chlamys and motioning towards himself. It’s a dark brown cloak made of a thick and well insulating fabric, likely wool. He hasn’t worn it much but it’s decently comfortable right now. It’s not too long on him and he figures he could easily run in it, which will make it very useful for when he makes his escape.

Damen shrugs the chlamys on, wrapping it around his neck a few times before letting it drape over both his shoulders, the rich red looks good against his skin and Laurent has the stray thought that Damen looks very handsome; regal even.

“It looks like there’s a summer storm blowing in, so it will definitely become warmer than it is now, but it’ll likely be windy all day. It’ll probably end up raining either tonight or tomorrow.” Damen says conversationally as he leads Laurent from the castle, looking up at the clouds gathering in the sky. Laurent hums in acknowledgement and after that they walk in a comfortable silence.

Damen guides him around Abydos, sometimes pointing out a place and quietly telling Laurent of a time when he was younger and the games and mischief he and Nikandros used to get up to. Before they can reach the village proper Damen veers off, leading him along a trail that dances between a field of growing grain and the thick forest. After an indeterminate distance Damen ducks into the forest, through a copse of trees so thick that Laurent can hardly see hide nor hair of him.

A hand reaches out of the leaves and Laurent hesitates for just a moment before grabbing it and letting Damen pull him through what is clearly a very overgrown entrance. They weave in, around, and even over underbrush, trees, and some crumbling stacks of stone, and when they finally reach their destination Laurent’s breath catches in his throat.

They’ve come out in a clearing surrounded by low stone walls that are almost entirely covered in vines of ivy like vibrant green tapestries. There are wildflowers of all sorts growing in bright carpets all along the bottoms of the walls which form hallways that turn and continue out of Laurent’s view. There’s no roof anywhere in sight, yet the area feels just as closed in and sheltered by the canopy of coniferous trees that stretch above them. Laurent can hear birdsong and the shallow trickle of slow running water from somewhere in the distance. It’s like an oasis, hidden away inside the trees like a treasure.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it.” Damen whispers from beside him and when Laurent looks away from the enchanting vision before him and up into Damen’s face it’s to see Damen looking back down at him. “I remember as a boy, hearing stories of fairies and other mythical creatures and not believing in them. When me and Nik came here and I half expected to see a faun come out from around that corner, or for fae music to start up and reel me in. It no longer seemed too far fetched, the idea of creatures beyond our understanding - magic - in a place as beautiful as this.” His eyes leave Laurent’s face to flicker around.

“I wonder if that’s why the locals think it’s haunted.” Laurent whispers back and Damen looks back down at him, his eyes crinkling with his smile.

“Come, I’ll show you around.”

Damen leads him through the Ruins, which seems a sad name for a place so beautiful. He tells Laurent of his and Nikandros’ first time coming here, as well as the few times they returned later and their last trip. Laurent listens with half an ear, his focus easily wandering to all the different plants he can see. He’s looking for something, a potential source for the sickness that seems to grip the boys who come here, but so far he’s finding nothing. There’s no places of mold, no dangerous plants that could make them sick from just touching them. The water is too far away for them to have drank any, even if the water was contaminated with something.

Damen ducks into a dark tunnel and disappears from Laurent’s view, though his voice carries on in it’s narration.

“Of course, we weren’t smart enough to have brought any food along with us, and we’d already been out for hours so we decided to try out hands at scavenging and--”

“What could a Prince possibly know about scavenging?” Laurent interrupts and he can hear Damen’s laugh bounce around in the darkness.

“Not much, Doctor, I’ll grant you that. I never spent much time in the kitchens, but I had many tutors who were training me, even from childhood, for the soldier’s path I was to take. Most Princes of Akielos spend time as a soldier, training and learning like everyone else. It helps teach them things like discipline and how to follow orders. We all learnt the basics of medicine and how to catch and prepare food, as well as how to set up camp and find supplies so we’re ready for any situation. I hadn’t joined the army yet, but they were still trying to teach me about which plants were edible and which weren’t, so I’d be able to focus on learning new things when I did finally join and--- _Aha!_ Here it is.”

Damen comes lumbering back out of the tunnel, his curls and chlamys covered in cobwebs and sticks. He’s proudly holding a bundle of leaves in his hand and he hands them over to Laurent before attempting to brush the debris off his clothes.

“There’s a small clearing just inside there where this grows in abundance, it used to grow more out in the main clearing, but I’m guessing enough boys have been here to eat it that it’s had to resort to growing elsewhere.” Damen says, his voice muffled, and Laurent watches him with amusement for a moment before looking down at the leaves in his hand. Damen’s almost picked the entire plant, there are even still some roots with dirt attached to them, but it’s the leaves that almost immediately catch Laurent’s attention.

“You, you ate this?” Laurent asks sharply and Damen stops his grooming, looking at Laurent with a furrowed brow.

“Yes. It’s wood garlic. It’s not my favorite taste, but it’ll do if you’re hungry enough.” He says and Laurent is already shaking his head.

“No. No this isn’t wood garlic. I’ll grant you that it looks remarkable similar, but this is Muguet.” Damen still looks confused.

“I don’t think my tutors ever taught me that one, Doctor.”

“Well, wood garlic, as you called it, does grow everywhere and it would be plentiful here, but Muguet...It’s not supposed to grow here, in Akielos. These are remains from the Artesian Empire, right? They definitely would have traded with Vask and Patras, that must be where the plant came from. It’s incredibly poisonous. If young men come here, to the Ruins,  and see this and eat it thinking its wood garlic then that’s definitely why they’re getting sick. We have to go to Orestes’ house.”

 

***

 

He and Damen make their way from the Ruins back to Abydos in half the time it had taken them to get out to the Ruins. Laurent notices that when they reach the edges of the town that Damen bundles up his chlamys and opts to hold it instead of wear it. Laurent leads him to the leathersmith’s house and it’s quick work to question Orestes about the plant. He admits that it looked familiar and he had probably seen other boys eat it, if not eaten it himself. Laurent gets Orestes and Damen’s help in propping the boy, Orion, up and coaxing him to drink as much water as Laurent could force down his throat. The boy had then awoken with a rough gasp just before vomiting all the water right back up, but now he is awake and his stomach has been flushed of some of the poison.

Laurent  forces him to drink more water and asks him about the plant. Orion admits to eating some, though not as much as Perikles had, and Laurent explains to him about the origins of the plant and the consequences of eating such a thing, especially when you’re not certain what it could be. When he and Damen leave the leathersmiths house it is around midday and Orion’s fever is no longer as high as it had been.

Orion had vomited once more before they’d left and Laurent had ensured that Orestes knew to keep giving his son water. He’d been unconscious and fevered for a few days and now his body needed the water and the water could even help break down the poison. Even if Orion continued to vomit the water back up, that would still be a helpful way of getting rid of some of the poison as well, but Laurent had insisted that now they should be giving Orion smaller amounts of water and waiting to see if he can hold it down.

He and Damen had left to grateful thanks from Orestes, and when they’d gotten back to the castle Damen had ducked away to go speak with Nikandros. Word  quickly spreads of Laurent’s help with the leathersmiths boy, as well as the real cause of why boys of all generations had been falling ill or even dying after visiting the Ruins. Aglea even comes to see Laurent, thanking him through Thea for finding out the truth, and he apologized for not having been able to help her son in time but she’d waved him off.

Now it was supper time and after Nikandros has left the table Meniados calls for Laurent to move over and sit beside him.

“So. You healed the leathersmith’s boy.” He begins and Laurent keeps his eyes on his cup, drawing a finger delicately around the rim.

“Yes.” Laurent says, his tone bored and indicating he’d rather be anywhere other than beside the Kyros at that moment.

“And it was a plant that he’d eaten that was causing the illness?”

“Yes. It looks remarkably similar to a common and edible plant, Naos had called it wood garlic. It’s a simple mistake to make.” Laurent allows, looking out the side of his eye at the Kyros beside him. Meniados’ wife and children have already left for bed, the excitement of tomorrow’s hunt getting the better of the children. It is just Meniados and Laurent at the table now and neither of them are looking at each other, choosing instead to focus on different points about the hall.

“A mistake you wouldn’t have made.”

“No. I’ve got a considerable amount of more training in identifying such things than local farm boys do.”

“You’re smarter than them, you mean.” Meniados corrects and Laurent lets his lips twitch just enough to infuriate the man.

“Your words, Kyros, not mine. If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll be retiring for the night.” Laurent moves to push his chair back and a hand shoots out to land on top of his to stop him from moving.  He’s tempted to pull his hand back, and sharply, but instead he makes a show of leaving it where it is and not flinching away from the contact. He finally slowly turns his face to the right to look directly at Meniados, who’s looking down at him with an unreadable expression on his face. The sounds of the dining hall fade around them until all Laurent can hear is the blood rushing through his ears and the Kyros’ voice.

“Have a kit ready for the hunt tomorrow morning, something easily carried. And wear something less… Bright, than what you’ve currently got on.” The Kyros says, his lips pulled back in a small sneer around the last words and Laurent mockingly bows his head.

“If you have a problem with my clothes, that’s entirely up to you. I didn’t previously own these until I was brought here. I’ll have my kit ready for the morning. Good evening.” He snaps, flicking Meniados’ hand from his and standing up. The sound of the hall comes rushing back in as he steps away from the table and makes his way around the edges of the room. He doesn’t notice that someone has followed him out of the dining hall and into the hallways until a hand gently catches his arm. He turns with the grip, fully prepared to hit whoever it is, only to come up short as Damen stands behind him, his hands held up palm towards Laurent in clear surrender.

“Careful there, Doctor.”

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Laurent barks, trying to calm his suddenly racing heartbeat and Damen lowers his hands, looking behind himself back towards the hall.

“I wanted to speak to you about something. I told the others that my shoulder had been acting up and that I was going to talk with you about it before you went to bed.”

Laurent forces his breathing to even out, and in doing so his heart rate slows to something more manageable. He doesn’t ask Damen any more questions, instead turning on his heels and walking towards his room. Damen follows along silently, the soft slapping of his sandals on the stone floors the only sound Laurent can hear from him. They pass no one in the hallways and when Laurent opens his door Damen slips in silently after him.

The click of the door closing sounds very loud to Laurent’s ears.

He walks deeper into the room, sitting down at one of the many tables and waiting till Damen sits down with him.

“Your shoulder hasn’t been actually bothering you.” Laurent starts and Damen shakes his head ruefully.

“No. My shoulder’s been fine. Thank you.” Laurent brushes the thanks away with a flick of his wrist before reaching out and grabbing at a small jar on the table and holding it in his hands just to have something else to focus on.

“What did you wish to speak to me about?” Laurent asks after a few silent minutes have passed and Damen plucks the jar from his hands, putting it back on the table and forcing Laurent to look up at him.

“You’re planning an escape attempt.”

Laurent blinks.

“It won’t be tomorrow, because that’ll be too suspicious, but you know that Nik and the rest of us are leaving the next morning. You’re headed north, back to Delpha.” Damen says, stopping and looking directly into Laurent’s eyes.

“What makes you say that?” Laurent asks, his voice quiet, and Damen doesn’t say anything instead reaching into the pockets of his breeches and pulling out a handful of ribbons and leather ties. Laurent’s leather hair ties and ribbons. The one’s he’d been using to mark his path. Damen sets the small tangle of fabrics on the table beside them and Laurent swallows exactly once, thickly.

“I found these in the forest the other day. We were running some drills. I had to distract Meniados’ men so they wouldn’t notice them. I later went back and grabbed them so that whichever team came through next wouldn’t find them. It was a clever idea, but a dangerous one _Xenos_.”

Laurent stands from the seat without consciously thinking of moving, he stalks away from Damen and over to the fireplace where he starts lighting a fire in silence. The day had been overcast and the clouds had been getting steadily darker. It still hasn’t rained but Damen had been right about the weather and it was likely to rain sometime in the night or tomorrow morning. He kneels on the hearth, pulling a few smaller sticks and logs from the pile beside him and setting them into an easily flammable formation.

“What makes you think those are mine?” He asks and hears Damen sigh. He grabs hold of the fire striker in one hand, his fingers closing around the cold metal of it, and in the other he grabs the large piece of  flint.

“ _Laurent._ ”

“What.” Laurent finally snaps, standing and turning to face Damen. “Did you think I was happy here? That I’ve been content with how things have turned out?”

“You helped the leathersmith’s boy--” Damen begins and Laurent cuts him off.

“I’m a doctor! If someone is sick I’m going to help them! That doesn’t mean I want to be here!”

“And the people you’ve met? Thea? Helen?”

“They’re people, Damen. They’re not my friends. They’re not my family. I want to go home. _I have to go home_. I can’t stay prisoner here and act like nothing’s wrong!”

“You’re not a prison--”

“I may as well be!” Laurent shouts and Damen’s mouth snaps shut. Laurent begins gesturing with the flint and steel. “I’m stuck here, in a foreign place where people speak a language _I don’t know_. There’s a man who refuses to let me go home and has me watched like a hawk day in and day out. I can’t leave! That sounds like a prisoner to me!” Laurent turns his back on Damen, looking down into the fireplace.

He can feel angry tears pricking the corners of his eyes and bites his tongue to try and force them back. His fists are clenched at his sides and he pulls them forwards, crossing his arms in front of him for a moment before kneeling again and putting some charcloth in the center of his wood pile. He tries a few times to strike the flint against the firesteel but while it releases small sparks there’s nothing big enough to catch. He tries striking harder, his frustration from the past weeks having built up and now needing some place to go. It does nothing.

“Laurent,” Damen starts, quietly, and Laurent ignores him. He tries to strike again. His knuckles are white around the rough piece of flint.  “Laurent, stop.” Laurent’s hands are shaking. He tries to strike again and the flint barely glances off the steel. He keeps his eyes on the fireplace in front of him, his chest catches on his next inhale. He tries to strike again.

“ _Xenos_ , you need to calm--” Laurent throws the flint and the steel across the room abruptly. He hears the sound of glass shattering and metal clanking against stone.

He stands in a single smooth motion once more, turning around to snarl. “Don’t tell me to calm down, Damianos, or I swear to the gods---” He cuts himself off, Damen has stood from his seat at the table and is right in front of him. Close enough that if Laurent leaned a few inches forward his forehead would be resting against Damen’s chest.

For the second time that day Damen lifts his hands to Laurent, palm forward in surrender. “Let me,” is all he says before turning and walking to where Laurent threw the fire supplies. He easily finds the flint and the curve of firesteel, bringing them back to where Laurent is standing.

Damen sinks to his knees in a fluid motion and Laurent’s mind cuts itself off as he watches Damen strike flint to steel until a steady flow of sparks have started the charcloth smoldering. Damen leans down and blows against the smoke until it turns into proper flames that easily lick against the dry wood and start to burn.

Damen stays kneeling on the hearth, watching the flames grow, and Laurent watches him in silence. It should probably disturb him, to see a prince on his knees. If he was Pallas he’d have probably fainted.

“You could have probably just borrowed one of the hall torches to light this, you realize.” Damen says and Laurent has the strongest urge to kick him. There’s already a lit torch in this room, that’s how they’ve been able to even walk about the room without bumping into everything, but Laurent’s brain hadn’t exactly been working. He’d mainly just wanted to hide from Damen’s view. Try and regain some sense of control. It hadn’t worked.

_“Don’t.”_

Damen must sense the real anger in his voice, or perhaps the potential threat, because he looks up at Laurent, his eyes reflecting the firelight back. He sits there in silence, looking up at Laurent and Laurent feels the stirrings of his frustration die down, he slumps like a puppet with cut strings and Damen touches the floor beside him just once but Laurent understands all the same. He kneels down beside Damen with far less grace, his body jarring at the contact of the stone against his knees. His eyes automatically focus on his hands, there’s a small scratch on his right palm from where he’d held the flint too tightly. He twists his hand in the firelight, looking at the shallow mark. It starts to sting.

“You said you had to get home.” Laurent doesn’t look at him, still looking down at his palm. Part of him wishes the scratch was larger, something bigger to focus his attentions on, something equal in pain to the inner pain that had wanted to explode out. “Not that you wanted to go home, but that you _needed_ to... Will you tell me why?”

Laurent swallows and debates with himself. Just days ago he’d told Thea part of the truth, at least the part about Auguste, but he hadn’t even told her close to the whole truth. Damen has been…. Different to the others. Maybe he can try to convince him to tell Meniados to let him go. Or maybe Damen could get him back across the border himself, giving one of his men the order or even giving Laurent a horse and sending him on his way. Laurent isn’t sure but he thinks that if he asked Damen to let him go, maybe he actually would.

“My brother died four months ago.” He starts slowly and he looks up from his palm to focus on the flames. “He-- We were incredibly close. I idolized him, he was my closest friend and my greatest protector. My first word was this shortened version of his name,” Laurent says with a small and barely audible chuckle. “He loved to bring that up around our father, who’d been determined to try and make me say _‘P_ _ère_ _’_ as my first word. The entire reason I became a doctor was for my brother. He was always looking out for me and I tried my hardest to do the same. When he and my father joined the army we were in the middle of a war, and I was too young to go so I was left behind.

“I started studying medicine, my logic was that when I was old enough then I could look after Auguste if he ever got hurt. I’d never been a very physical person, the most I’d do was horseback riding, but Auguste did lots of sports. He’d tried his hand at everything. He was a quick learner, and this meant that he quickly rose in rank. Medicine was a way to help while utilizing my mind, and I latched onto it.” Laurent trails off, trying to think of what he can reveal and what he can’t. The silence must last longer than he thinks.

“He sounds like he was very brave… Dying for your country is an incredibly honorable---”

“He didn’t die in the war. He didn’t die fighting. Or he did, but not for his country.” Laurent interrupts, pulling his arms in close and wrapping them around himself to fend from the sudden chill he can feel deep in his bones. He can’t feel even a drop of heat from the fireplace in front of him.

“My uncle killed him.” Laurent finally says, and Damen doesn’t make a sound beside him. “My father and brother came home from the war completely in fine spirits and they both rapidly began declining in health a month later. They died months after they returned home, my father first and then… Then Auguste.” Laurent’s eyes are beginning to blur around the edges, faint double visions of his hands and the hearth swimming before him.

“My father had come from a very well off family. And he had lots of connections both because of his wealth and because of his attitude and general likeability. He owned a lot of land and invested it in useful and profitable things. My uncle was the second son, and so he’d gotten less of the share of land and money when my grandparents had passed on. He wasn’t happy with that. He didn’t know that my father had left everything to me and Auguste in his will. I think Auguste suspected something was up with uncle, because he’d also written a will and I don’t know if he’d done it before he left for the war or not.

“The land and money that was to be left to Auguste would be left to me in the event of Auguste’s death. I’d just managed to work things out so that if my uncle ever managed to kill me then he’d get nothing. Not a single cent or acre. The land was to go to the Crown, and the money donated to different schools and charities. The day that plan was finalized and legally binding was the day Nikandros found me. I’d needed air and an escape so I wasn’t around for the moment my uncle found out what I’d done. I walked too far, I was lost in my own head, and I stumbled upon a place I shouldn’t have been. People I shouldn’t have come across.”

“The redcoat soldier.” Damen supplied and Laurent blinked away the last remnants of his unshed tears and finally turns to look at Damen. He’s looking at Laurent with a sad expression, but it isn’t pity that Laurent sees there it’s something else.

“Yes. The redcoat. And your Captain as well. Now I’ve been here for a month and a week and I don’t know what my uncle’s managed to do in that time. If he’s managed to unravel my hardwork and destroy what I tried to leave behind as Auguste’s legacy.” Laurent finishes, the burden of holding even that much of his story to himself lifting off his shoulders. He doesn’t know why he thinks so but he knows and trusts that Damen won’t tell anyone what Laurent has just told him. Despite how open Damen is with people - the undercover work notwithstanding. He’s taken by surprise when Damen reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, his fingers brushing the back of Laurent’s neck and his thumb brushing Laurent’s collarbone over his shirt.

“I’m sorry for you loss, Laurent. And not just the loss of your father and brother, but of the trust you should have been able to have in your family.” Damen’s hand slides up as he speaks, till he’s cradling the back of Laurent’s neck in his palm. The weight of it is surprisingly grounding and Laurent finds he can’t look away from Damen’s eyes. “A betrayal like the one you’ve received is unimaginable. Even with the Kastor situation, if… If it’s true and he somehow found a way to kill my father I--I don’t think I would be as strong as you have been, were I in your place. Having family do something like that.”

They sit like that, kneeling in the dust and cinders of the hearth, Damen’s hand warm on Laurent’s neck, for a considerable amount of time. The heat of the fire slowly seeps under Laurent’s skin, banishing the cold that had taken hold in his frustration. Laurent tries not to think about how he feels like a flower in the sun, blossoming gently under Damen’s attention. The only other time he’d acted like this had been with-- He mentally shakes the images out of his brain just as Damen gently removes his hand from Laurent’s neck, still watching him, gauging him.

“I didn’t actually come here to antagonize you.” Damen mutters, his voice soft, and Laurent watches him put his hands in his lap and thinks for a wild second about asking Damen to put his hand back on his neck.

“And yet you brought the ribbons” Laurent reminds him and he looks sheepish for a second.

“I didn’t want you getting in trouble with Meniados if some other soldier had stumbled upon them or seen them.”

Laurent allows the corners of his lips to pull up, just slightly. “How noble.”

Damen looks exasperated at his dry tone but he must hear the begrudging thanks Laurent is granting him in between the lines. He hadn’t known that the soldiers ran drills through the forests to the north. If he had he’d have tried to hide his ribbons in better places. Or perhaps he’d have spent a little more time memorizing the forest trails and landmarks. There’s clearly nothing to be done about it now. Laurent could still try and escape the morning after the hunt like he’d wanted, he’d just now be doing it blindly which he wasn’t too keen on. It’s probably time to think of another escape plan.  

“I came to tell you that I’m going with Nikandros. To visit with all the generals and continue on the mission my father gave me to look into Kastor.”

“I know.”

Damen blinks. “Pardon?”

Laurent actually manages a small laugh. “Damianos. You called me clever, once. Do you really think I couldn’t figure out what was going on after Nikandros’ return?”

Damen squints at him, a shallow v forming between his brows and his lips lightly pouting. “Pallas told you something, didn't he.” Damen says after and moment and now it’s Laurents turn to be shocked for a moment.

“How do you figure that?” He manages to say, sans any stuttering, and Damen shakes his head, his confused expression disappearing.

“Pallas is entirely too innocent of intention to see bad intentions in other people. He’s always assumed the best in everyone. It makes it hard to teach him, sometimes, but he’s still a good soldier in spite of it. A brilliant one actually. He’s also the only one I can think of whom you could lightly threaten and get away with them not telling me about it.”

Laurent protests, “I didn’t threaten him.”and Damen points a single finger at him as he stands up.

“I said ‘lightly threaten’ not ‘threaten.’”

Laurent stands up as well, brushing off cinders from his knees before focusing again on Damen. He talks as he brushes. “And how exactly does one ‘lightly threaten’ someone?” He asks haughtily, and there’s a small huff of amusement from Damen.

“In much the same way someone would ‘lightly insult’ someone.”

Laurent scoffs. “I’d much rather directly insult someone, thanks.” He says back without thinking and Damen finally let’s a laugh escape.

“I’m aware.” Damen says between laughs before getting marginally more serious. “What do you think you know about the plan?” He sits down at the table they’d been at before and Laurent cautiously joins him.

“The rumor mill is spitting out that it is Kastor leaving Ios and coming up to Karthas. But that’s not true because Nikandros received word that your father is the one leaving and Kastor is watching over Ios until he gets the order to join the Akielon forces. It’s been lightly circulating that you’ll be travelling towards Delfeur too and when people find out it’s your father going then that particular untruth will become more widespread. All Pallas told me,” Laurent rolls his eyes at Damen’s smug look at the mention of the soldier, “was that you were going south. I assumed it was to continue with the mission you’d told me your father had given you. This means that Theomedes heading north is part war strategy and part distraction. With all the focus on him moving, and you supposedly being with him, then no one will pay much attention to a single captain and his men, no matter what kinds of questions they may ask.” Laurent shrugs, leaning his elbow on the table and his hand in his upturned palm. “Everyone will be too worried about the potential King and Crown Prince’s visit to care about some soldiers with intrusive questions.”

Damen watches him as he talks and it’s Laurents turn to send a smug look at him. Damen’s expression gets more impressed as Laurent continues.

Damen leans forward in his seat intently. “And your plan was to go north as we went south. Likely at the same time, hoping the sentries would be watching us. When did you think we were leaving?”

Laurent let’s a sharp grin show across his face. “The morning after the hunt. Before dawn.”

Damen nods, his lips quirked in amusement. “Smart. Meniados will have shortened the shifts to allow everyone a small moment in the revelry of the night. The guards on duty would likely be drunk, if not hungover, and therefore less observant or more forgiving of things they can’t focus on completely. You left the ribbons as a trail to find your way in the darkness of the early morning. It was a clever plan.” He grants and Laurent dips his head in acknowledgement.

“The one thing I couldn’t figure out was that if you’re going to go see your father’s generals and the other Kyros, how are you going to hide who you are? These men will clearly have met you already, so what is the plan there?”

Damen grins at him, leaning back into his seat and giving Laurent a wink in response. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that part of things. We’re not actually hoping to garner the attention of the Kyros or the Generals. That’s Nik’s job. The rest of us are aiming lower.”

“That’s not very informative.” Laurent retorts and Damen shrugs.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” Damen stands from his seat and when Laurent goes to do the same he holds out a hand to stop him,so Laurent sits back down. “I’m going to retire for the night. I have things to do in the morning--”

“The hunt.” Laurent says and Damen shakes his head.

“Actually, no. Nikandros will be going on the hunt, but as a ‘lower’ soldier I’ll be staying behind. There are games that typically go on between those who don’t participate in the hunt. It’s very boring, waiting and watching trees. There’ll be wrestling and sword fighting and other such sports going on outside in the sheep field. All the sheep have been moved temporarily to the horse paddock and the horses were brought into the stables this afternoon.”

Damen slowly makes his way backwards to the door while keeping eye contact with Laurent. Laurent idly waits for the moment he bumps into something and sends whatever is on the table careening to the floor, but surprisingly the moment doesn’t come. Damen makes it all the way to the door and even opens it just enough to slip a foot outside. The hallway is dimmer than it was when they came from the hall, torches burnt low in the minutes they’ve wasted away inside the surgery. Damen turns his body until he’s half out the door, still keeping his eyes on Laurent’s face.

“I’d heard that Meniados had roped you into going along on the hunt. Good luck, Doctor. I hope your skills aren’t needed.” Damen fully opens the door and slips out. When the door is just about to close Laurent calls out to him.

“Wait.” The door opens again and Damen leans inside the frame. “You didn’t ask if I still planned to escape.” Laurent says, toying with the ribbons and leather strings on the table.

Damen smirks. “I already know the answer to that, I don’t need to ask. Good night, Laurent.”

Laurent stops picking at the ribbons like a restless kitten. “Good night, Damen.” He returns and Damen bows his head before slipping completely from the room.

The door shuts with barely a sound behind him and Laurent looks away from the door and down at his hands. He pulls one of his leather hair ties from the group and uses it to tie his hair back out of his face. He hadn’t managed to get around to having Damen ordering Meniados’ men to let him go, but there’s still a full day of them being here and if that doesn’t work then that means Laurent needs a plan B. Though, it’s probably actually a plan C or D by now. Maybe even E.

 

***

 

It’s a cold morning, surprisingly cold for the middle of August, and Laurent is standing outside the gates of the castle. He’s watching the local nobles and higher members of Meniados’ household as they get ready for Meniados to initiate the hunt. Men and women check over their spears and bows, a few even carrying large rifles that they’re wiping down. Stable hands are holding the reins of the finest horses Meniados has in his stables - below Damen and Nik’s horses - and they’re huffing and shaking their heads while they paw at the ground with their hooves. The sounds of dogs excitedly barking and playing with each other joins as part of the background noise.

Laurent looks back down at the small pack attached to the belt looped around his hips. Inside the leather pouch there is some sterilized needles wrapped in freshly clean cloth and a small bottle of alcohol. There are also some herbs that can be chewed on to alleviate pain wrapped in another cloth to keep them from getting everywhere. He double checks that everything is in fact there just in time for Meniados to come out of the gates.

Meniados and his men all mount their horses, Nikandros joining them as he pulls up almost beside the Kyros but staying respectfully back. There’s no grand speech or pep talk, Meniados gets right to the point by shouting ‘Let the hunt begin!’. Someone to Laurent’s right blows a loud horn and all the dogs are released from their chains. They take off for the forest, eager to stalk out potential prey, and the men and women on horseback all let out loud whoops of excitement before kicking their horses into a run and disappearing into the forest as well.

A few lower soldiers start running for the forest on foot and Laurent darts after them with one last look towards the sheep field. It’s slowly filling with people as they wake up and come join the large group outside. The tables have been dragged from the hall and set up outside and they’re laden with breakfast foods and drink. There is a large bonfire crackling off to the side with what looks like a whole pig being slowly roasted overtop it. The smell of smoke drifts lazily through the air.

In the rush of adrenaline that accompanies his sudden start, the world passes by him in flashes. Rough starts and stops where he can see someone one second and they’re gone the next. The dogs are significantly ahead, barking and causing a loud ruckus that will ultimately scare any potential prey either further into the forest, or if the dog’s cut them off then back towards the riders and other soldiers.

Laurent quickly loses steam, easily falling far behind the people on horseback and deciding to pace himself and save his energy for if someone gets injured and he really needs to run. He’s never accompanied anyone on a hunt before and he’s not entirely sure what to expect.

Byron had hosted a few hunts while Laurent had been studying with Paschal, and sometimes he’d even left Chastillon to go and attend a hunt being hosted by one of his ‘influential’ friends. Sometimes people came back from the hunts with sprained wrists or twisted ankles. The worst Laurent had seen was a broken leg when someone’s horse had gotten spooked and bucked the unfortunate rider off their saddle and they’d landed in such a way that their leg, quite literally, broke their fall.

Laurent hopes no one broke their leg this time around. It’d be hard to set it and have it heal properly when he couldn’t make a proper cast for it.

It doesn’t take long for Laurent to get lost as there are no trails this deep into the forest and all the surrounding brush and trees look similar. There’s nothing distinctive to lead him in any direction. He’s been alone and wandering for a good hour, at least, when he hears rustling in the underbrush around him.

His first thought is that one of the runners has stumbled upon him, but everywhere he turns he can’t see even the slightest movements of a human being crashing through the greenery. The sound of the dogs is faint and their barking isn’t as constant as it had been. It had started raining about half an hour ago and Laurent was easily soaked to the bone and shivering in minutes. His wool cloak was back in his room and he was currently wearing a thinner one made of much lighter material and it had quickly become waterlogged in the downpour.

His heart begins racing as he looks around him. He isn’t sure what they were hunting, but he knows that there are wild boars in this forest as well as deer. There’s a low grunting sound from directly behind him and he turns around just in time to see a large dark shape come huffing out of the bush. He sees a glint of yellow tusk, and the whites of wide eyes when a gunshot rings out and the boar slumps to the forest floor just a foot in front of him. Laurent flinches away from the sound, and as the boar goes down Laurent dimly registers the feeling of warm liquid dripping down his face; blood.

“You’re welcome, pet.” A voice calls out and Laurent turns his head to watch as Nikandros rides out of a particularly leafy tree and into view. He’s got a pistol outstretched in one hand, his eyes on the fallen boar, and when the boar doesn’t move he relaxes and looks at Laurent. “It’s not safe to be wandering around while they’ve a hunt going on, you know.” He says with a smirk and Laurent gives him an unimpressed glare, wiping with a wet sleeve at his face. He imagines he looks about as intimidating as a drowned cat at the moment, but still.

“Not all of us have a horse to parade around on, Captain.” He bites and it just makes Nikandros grin wider. He opens his mouth to likely say something that’ll make Laurent want to punch him but is interrupted by a loud scream. Laurent can’t tell where the sound comes from, it surrounds them so entirely, but Nikandros immediately glances to his left and his face has gone serious.

“Budge up.” Laurent orders and Nikandros looks down at him for a moment in which Laurent grabs onto his leg and hooks his foot into the stirrup and hops onto the horse behind him. “Let’s go, Captain. There’s a reason I’m even out here in the first place.” Just as Laurent finishes talking there’s a loud shout of ‘Doctor!’

Nikandros doesn’t glance back at him, instead tightening his hold on the reins and kicking his horse into action. They race through the forest and Nikandros leads them in the right direction. There’s a small crowd of people gathered, and Laurent can see Aktis and Meniados crouched down on the ground beside someone. He slides from Nikandros’ horse and is already making his way through the tangle of brush when he gets his first clear look at the scene.

It’s a man lying on the forest floor between Meniados and Aktis, one that Laurent recognizes from meals in the hall. He’d sat with Meniados’ Captain, he was probably a member of Meniados’ personal guard. Aktis would often rope him into conversation when he was on Laurent-watching-duty and the two seemed quite close.

“It’s alright Belen, everything’s going to be fine.” Meniados says calmly. Laurent finally reaches them and crouches down as well. There’s a large gash across Belen’s shin and there’s quite a bit of blood flowing down his leg.

Laurent gives Aktis a curious glare and Aktis nods to one side. Laurent follows his gaze and sees another large boar, just a bit smaller than the one Nikandros has shot down, dead in the grass. He looks back down at Belen before leaning slightly over him so he can catch Belen’s eye.

“Hello Belen, I’m Laurent.” He says slowly and Belen eyes flicker to catch his.

“The… The doctor.” he gasps and Laurent nods.

“Yes. I can see that you’ve got a bit of a wound on your leg, that must be a little uncomfortable.” Laurent says conversationally as he undoes the belt from around his waist and pulls the pouch from it. He begins cinching the belt around Belen’s thigh, grabbing a nearby stick and using it to turn the belt into a makeshift tourniquet. Belen rumbles an incredulous laugh.

“Just a bit.” He says and Laurent chances a look back up at his face to see him cough violently. His lips stain red with blood but underneath they’re turning blue and Laurent immediately looks back down at him for other injuries. He’d be coughing up blood if there was internal bleeding in the stomach or the lungs. A leg injury wouldn’t do that. And blue lips means he’s losing a fair amount of blood. His eyes zero in on a spot on Belen’s dark shirt that’s deeper in shade than the rest. He lifts the shirt up and his expression drops. Underneath the shirt Belen’s stomach has been partially torn open. Laurent can see torn intestines hanging from the wound, and the inside is full of bright red blood. Laurent looks to Meniados, who’s been watching him and has seen the wound, he gives Laurent a questioning glance and Laurent subtly shakes his head in answer.

 _‘Can you help him?’_ Meniados’ look asks. _‘No._ ’ Laurent wordlessly answers.

Meniados stares at him as if trying to judge his sincerity and Laurent shakes his head again. Meniados looks down at Belen before motioning towards the tourniquet. Laurent reaches for it. Slowly undoing it and letting the blood begin to flow again. The boar has probably nicked the femoral artery and Belen is going to bleed out rather quickly from it but it’s a far less painful death than the wound on his stomach would have granted him.

“Belen.” Laurent calls for his attention as Meniados pulls the man’s shoulders and head into his lap. Aktis is clutching one of Belen’s hands with a white knuckled grip. Belen struggles to focus his eyes, and Laurent keeps his body so that he’s blocking the sight of Belen’s leg from him. “You’re going to be absolutely fine.” Laurent says and Belen gives him an unfiltered smile. His dark curls are falling in his face as he looks back at Laurent.

“Really, Doctor?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t lie to you.” Lauren answers and Belen relaxes into Meniados’ hold. “I want you to tell me about your family, Belen. Home. What is home like? What’s your favorite season to be home?” Laurent tries to distract him, and Belen takes to it easily. He smiles and closes his eyes and Laurent turns to watch as the blood begins to pump slower and slower from his leg. His breathing is getting softer; shallower. His eyelids are fluttering.

“Home, I like it during spring.” He says and Laurent nods.

“Spring is lovely, what’s your favorite part?”

“My brother and I, we go home to Dice every spring,” His voice is soft, breathless, and he keeps trailing off, but he still continues to answer the question. “We spend weeks helping the family clean up and take care of the animals. My mom cooks a feast almost every night.” He mumbles and Laurent smiles just enough that it’ll show in his voice.

“How was this past spring?” He pushes and Belen’s head is drooping in Meniados’ arms. Laurent doesn’t look away as Belen’s eyes flutter open and meet his.

“It was… It was… home.” He says, his voice just barely a whisper, and then his chest stops rising. When Laurent glances at his leg he can see that no more blood is coming from it, and when he reaches for Belen’s neck he doesn’t feel a pulse. He unties the belt and wraps it around his arm to keep it out of the way, ignoring the blood that covers his sleeve as he does so. He cautiously reaches out and puts a hand on Meniados’ shoulder before standing. He looks over at Nikandros who’s watching the scene, stricken.

The hunt is over.

 

***

 

The ride back to the castle is somber. The boar that had taken down Belen is being dragged by ropes behind Aktis’ horse and the boar that Nikandros has taken down is being dragged behind his. Belen’s body is being carried back by a few of his fellow soldiers while Meniados rides ahead to make sure his body is ready to be received and to send word to his family in Dice.

When Laurent and Nikandros reach the castle it’s to watch as Aktis jumps from his horse, leaving a stable hand to take care of the animal and the kitchen staff to grab the boar. There’s a game of some sort happening in the sheep field and Laurent watches as Aktis picks up a stick and joins in. Violently. Nikandros gets down from his horse to chase after him and Laurent watched as more staff came to take the second boar. They both join the game on the field but Laurent watches as Nikandros keeps himself between Aktis and all the other players like a single person barrier so Aktis, in his grieving anger, doesn’t hurt anyone.

Nikandros knocks Aktis onto his back just as the people carrying Belen’s body emerge from the forest and the crowd falls silent. The body is taken inside, and Nikandros helps Aktis up from the mud. They are both covered from tackles and slapping each other with the sticks - which Laurent was sure wasn’t the purpose of the sport. Elon and Lydos came up to meet them, and Elon wraps Aktis in a calming embrace. Laurent can see Pallas making his way over from one of the food tables to the field, and automatically Laurent’s eyes seek out Damen.

No matter how hard he looks he can’t see him anywhere.

 

***

 

The afternoon starts out somber but quickly turns exultant. In Akielos it’s the custom to spend the day celebrating the life of the dead and all their accomplishments. Laurent can hear many stories of Belen and his friends being shared among different conversational groups throughout the day, and the hours leading up to dinner are only getting more rambunctious. Laurent has already heard fourteen different toasts in Belen’s honor and after that he’d lost count. Many of Belen’s closest friends are very drunk already and the sun hadn’t even gone down.

He helps Helen prepare the body, sewing up the wounds and washing away blood and grime from the body before helping her dress it. He wraps bandages around the wounds so that any leftover blood won’t leak and stain the clothes they dress him in for viewing. He is wrapped in one of his ceremonial chitons, with parts of his leather armor mixed in to honor his station and rank. Laurent finds some scented oils in the surgery and he and Helen work them into the skin to help mask the scent of blood and death that is soon to follow.

Laurent then takes a bath to clean both the human and boar blood from himself and is now dressed and heading down towards the evening meal. Both boars have been prepared, with one currently being turned into dried meat and the tables had all been brought back into the hall.

Laurent sees Elon and Aktis slip outside the castle and away from the crowds just as he left the makeshift morgue and headed towards the baths. He’s seen Pallas and Lydos helping bring tables back in and he’s seen Nikandros talking with Meniados but he still hasn’t seen Damianos.

Laurent is coming around the corner of one of the last hallways that lead directly into the dining hall when he almost collides with someone’s back. They’re standing just around the corner, clearly waiting for someone as the rest of the hall is empty. They turn around and Laurent balks when he realises Meniados is looking down at him with something other than contempt in his eyes.

“Kyros.” He manages to greet, and Meniados motions for Laurent to follow him. He reluctantly does, curious as to what the man could want now.

Meniados leads him around the castle until they reach the study where Meniados had first questioned Laurent. Meniados motions for him to sit in one of the seats in front of his large desk, while he himself continues walking until he’s looking out the window and down at the courtyard below.

Laurent sits in silence for a stretch of time, watching and waiting on the Kyros before he finally speaks. “Was there a particular purpose to this little chat?” He asks, his tone distant and blank. A part of him wonders if Meniados is about to try and punish him for not being able to save Belen. Perhaps he’d give up the charade of hospitality and finally lock Laurent in their dungeons. Then at least the cage inside his mind would match with a physical one, instead of him being outwardly free but following so many rules.

“I wanted… I wanted to thank you.”

Laurent blinks, his blank expression faltering in surprise.

Meniados turns away from the window to look at him with his hands crossed behind his back. He walks back towards the desk and perches on the edge of it. Laurent lifts his chin to keep their eyes locked.

“There was no saving Belen. He’d… There have been wounds smaller than what he suffered that can easily take a life, I’ve seen so. You stayed calm, you distracted him. Made him think of somewhere better than where he currently was. You kept him calm and that’s not an easy task to do with a dying man. I wanted to give you my thanks for such an act.” His voice is low and solemn but he doesn’t seem angry or even suspicious.

Laurent pulls his gaze away, uncomfortable with the weight of Meniados’ eyes on him, and he shakes his head. “I didn’t want him to suffer. Sometimes when men realize how wounded they are and what’s happening, they accept it. Other times they try and fight death like it’s a physical thing they can beat back. When they try to fight it, it makes things worse. I didn’t want him to go through that. He was bleeding internally, there was no way for me to save him from that. I let him bleed out from the wound on his leg because bleeding out that way is less painful. It’s like falling asleep and then just not waking up. You simply… fade.”

“You’ve seen men die before.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it makes Laurent look back at the Kyros.

“Yes. Many of them.”

“You’ve saved men from dying.” Another statement.

Laurent lets the corners of his lips twitch up and meets Meniados’ eyes, holding them. “Yes. As many as I could.”

Meniados is clearly thinking something over, so Laurent lets him and instead turns his attention to what’s around the room. He’d been too preoccupied last time he’d been in here to do more than a cursory once over then. There’s a tapestry to one side that’s in a dark green, which seems to be Meniados’ family color, and on it there’s a depiction of a gathering of people sitting around a large fire. They look like they’re celebrating something. Some of them are dancing, many have cups in their hands.

Meniados’ clears his throat and Laurent brings his attention back around to the older man. “I had thought you to be lying, when you first arrived.” Laurent raises an eyebrow, not following, but Meniados continues. “It’s an easy cover, doctor or physician, it explains why there’s not always a uniform on someone, it automatically makes them seem trustable. Nikandros said you were a doctor but I wasn’t so convinced, despite what you did for Damen. I stopped you from leaving with the merchant because I wasn’t convinced you weren’t a spy who’d successfully managed to sneak his way into Akielos.” Meniados stands as he speaks, finally sitting down behind the desk in the large wooden chair and continuing on. Laurent listens with surprise at the sincerity of it all.

“It was also a test to see what you did with the surgery at your disposal. I’ve been listening all month as townsfolk have come to me, speaking your praises as you heal them of ailments. Broken hands, twisted ankles, rashes and sicknesses that have all been cured. And then this week you saved a young boy from dying and figured out the cause of many casualties throughout the years. And now with Belen, I’m forced to rethink my suspicions.” Meniados puts both his elbows on the table, clasping his hands in front of him and giving Laurent a small bow of his head. “I believe that you are a physician, and a talented one at that. But I am still not sure as to your intentions in Akielos.”

Laurent chooses this moment to reply. “My only intentions in Akielos are to get back out of Akielos, and these intentions have been the same since I arrived. I have no urge to spy on you or your town, I don’t work for any Commanders or Generals. I’m just a doctor who wishes to go home.”

“That’s what Damen also told me last night when he came to speak to me before I rested.” Laurent can feel himself straighten in his seat at the mention of the prince.

“Damen talked to you about me?” He says slowly and Meniados grins wryly.

“So did the Captain.”

What purpose would Nikandros have to speak to Meniados about him?

His confusion must be evident, because Meniados shakes his head and a small chuckle escapes him. “I’m sure I had the same face when they were both speaking to me. Damen came to try and convince me to let you go. Nikandros… he came to say he was taking you with him further into Akielos.” Laurent’s mouth falls open. What.

“The Captain was very honest with me, and very pushy as well. He insisted that your wellbeing in Akielos was his responsibility as he was the one who decided to bring you into this country. He claims to want a physician who knows what he’s doing on the road with him and his soldiers. He made it clear that he was taking you with them tomorrow morning, whether I liked it or not. I surrendered to his pushing, as I’m more agreeable to him keeping an eye on you than with Damen’s plan of taking you back to Vere. Perhaps Nikandros will know better what to do with you during the trip.”

Laurent’s mouth opens and closes a few times mechanically as he tries to think around the sudden news. He’s… Not going home, but he’s leaving Abydos? With Nikandros and the Prince of Akielos? To go deeper into Akielos? What’s he supposed to do now? How does he---

“So you’re letting me go. Just like that.”

Meniados shrugs. “I’ve got no say in the matter, Nikandros made that very clear. So yes, I’m letting you go.” Meniados stands from the desk and walks behind Laurent, Laurent turns his head when he hears sound behind him and it’s to see Meniados holding the door to the study open. Laurent slowly stands from the chair and walks towards it. Laurent pauses before he leaves, giving the Kyros a curious glance.

“Who’s going to be the physician when I’m gone?” he asks and Meniados just tilts his head to one side.

“We’ve got someone coming, sent by the King of Akielos himself, you needn’t worry about my people, Doctor, that’s my job.” He’d paused before saying _Doctor_ , like he’d wanted to say something else but had decided against it. Laurent gives him an amused glance but nods, bowing his head and stepping out of the room. The door closes behind him, the Kyros still inside his study, and he looks around at the empty hallways.

His chest is tight with confusion. All his plans would  have to change if he’s being taken deeper into Akielos. But his stomach is full of butterflies that flutter about his nerves and set him alight with something close to hope. He’s still getting out of Abydos. His plan of getting home is just going to be set back, but it’s still going to happen. A genuine smile stretches across his lips as he races through the hallways, darting through the kitchen and into the courtyard.

People are slowly making their way inside to go to supper, but Laurent knows of at least one person who is almost always late to the meal. Someone whom he hasn’t seen all day. He races to the stables, his hair flying out behind him, and he only slows once he’s slipped inside the building. Torches line the walls and stalls, and Laurent walks fast enough to kick hay around the floor as he travels from one end of the stables to the other. He stays by each stall just long enough to ascertain that there was only a horse in it before moving on to the next. He finds him in the end stall, brushing down a large black stallion with a focused concentration. Laurent slows himself to a stop, breathing quickly, as he leans against one side of the doorway to the stall.

“You’re going to be very late for supper, if you intend to brush down the entirety of this beast tonight.” He says, his voice carefully showing no signs of his exertion. Damen jumps all the same, having somehow not heard him run into the stables or make his way here. Damen’s shock lasts but a moment before he’s grinning widely at Laurent.

“Laurent! I haven’t seen you.” Damen’s smile falls to something more serious. “I heard about Belen. I’m sorry.”

Laurent gives him a curious glance and pushes off from the doorway, walking deeper into the stall and stopping as the horse bends its neck to give him a curious sniff. He smiles as he holds out his hand and the horse nudges it, looking for treats, before huffing and looking away. Laurent slowly puts his hand on the horse’s neck, slowly running his hands along the soft fur. He keeps his eyes on the horse as he talks.

“I didn’t personally know him. And it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Aktis was there, he seemed to be rather close to him. I was sorry he had to be there. And speaking of seeing, I haven’t seen you. I’ve been surrounded by people for the whole day. I’ve seen Nikandros, Aktis, even Pallas, Lydos, and Elon. But I haven’t seen you.” He accuses, finally looking over at Damen to see him watching Laurent petting his horse. The hand he’d been using to brush his horse was down at his sides, clutching a bundle of straw,  and Laurent leans over to take it from him, resuming the brushing Damen had been doing.

“I’ve been preparing for the trip, mainly. But I was playing the games this morning and helping to carry the boars around and carve them up for the feast tonight. Perhaps I kept managing to just slip by your attentions.” Damen says, his voice warm, and Laurent’s cheeks flush. Damen had gone to Meniados to try and get him back home. Damen wanted to help him.

“I came because I have news.” Laurent says, stepping over to continue brushing over the horse’s shoulder and down its sides. Damen steps out of the way.

“News.”

A small grin comes upon Laurent’s face and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to make it go away. Damen wants to help him.

“Yes. Meniados is letting me go.” He says, keeping his eyes on the hay in his hands. He hears Damen’s feet shuffle and feels a sudden heat at his back. Damen’s hand reaches out over his and stops its movement.

“He’s letting you go.” Damen says, and Laurent can feel the exhale of the words through his hair. Laurent’s hand twitches under Damen’s and he turns around to face him head on. Damen’s standing close enough that if Laurent shuffled his foot an inch they’d be touching from ankle to chest. Laurent’s chin tilts back so he can meet Damen’s gaze. The smile is still on his face.

“Technically, yes. Your Captain vouched for my freedom, in a rather roundabout way.” Damen’s brows furrow and he pulls his arm down so that it’s resting at his side again instead of almost blocking Laurent in against his horse.

“I don’t understand.”

“Nikandros… convinced Meniados to let me go from Abydos because he wants me to come with the lot of you deeper into Akielos.” Damen blinks, his expression clearing.

“You’re coming with me?”

“Yes, soldier. I’m coming with you. And I better get a horse to myself this time.”

Damen laughs and Laurent takes a step back to put some space between them.

“I’ll see what we can do, _Xenos._ ” He smiles at Laurent brightly and Laurent feels himself smile helplessly in return.

 


	4. beneath the moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How?” 
> 
> Laurent watches Damen’s lower lip wobble for a fraction of a sentence before Damen’s eyes lift to meet his. They’re hard with resolve but Laurent can still see sadness reflecting in them. 
> 
> “I don’t know.” 
> 
> The answer brings Laurent up short. 
> 
> “Pardon?” 
> 
> “I don’t know, Xenos. This… Knowing that my brother hates me and our father enough to try and overthrow us - even kill us - it’s… It’s tearing me up inside like the worst kind of storm. I can’t ride back to Ios and my brother. I can’t grab hold of him and try to shake some sense into him. I can’t go to every soldier or lord he’s garnered support from and ask them why. There is only one thing I can do and that is my duty as Prince of Akielos. I’m the face of my country. I’m going to be King. I must show a solid front for my people."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, i swear i did research into like, proper horse speeds and how much distance they were covering and it's perfectly reasonable for them to be on the road this long. alright? i swear. 
> 
> \-----------------------------------------

Laurent dips his hands into the cool water of the stream before him, washing away miles worth of dirt and dust before he cups his hands and brings them up to splash water on his face. He dips his hands back into the stream, the chill of the water offsetting the heat of the sun beating down on his back. His skin, under the chill of the stream water, is slick with sweat and hot to the touch with the beginnings if a burn starting to show.

In a rare moment of peace Nikandros decided to declare a short chance to gather more water and allow the horses a moment of rest. Lydos had immediately dismounted and splayed out like a starfish on the grass beside the trail they were taking, his eyes closed and one of his arms brought up to cover his eyes from the blinding sun. Pallas had laughed at him, hoping down from his horse and pouring the last of the water from his flask onto the laying soldier. Lydos hadn’t even flinched, he’d just let it happen which made Pallas laugh more before he went to fill his canteen.

They’ve been travelling along a lesser known trail instead of any of the main roads through Sicyon and Mellos, but it was still large enough for their group of eight to ride side by side in pairs - maybe even three’s if the the conversation became particularly slow. Running parallel to the left side of the path there’s a small stream that Laurent isn’t sure where it leads to or where it even came from - what’s feeding it and keeping it running this far inland. But as they’ve been riding the land around them has changed from the flatter farmers fields to rollings hills. Small lakes appear and disappear in the distance as they continue on and small patches of trees pop up only to evaporate a mile later into more rolling hills without a single tree in sight.

When Laurent asks Nikandros if the water is safe to drink the only answer he’d gotten was a blank look and a directing nod to Pallas, who had filled his canteen and was chugging the water down while spilling most of it down his face. He’s standing in the stream. Laurent had sighed before getting down from his horse.

As he cools off and refills his canteen he can hear Nikandros and Damen talking quietly amongst themselves. Aktis and Elon are silent but they're taking a moment to sit down by Lydos, leaning into each others shoulders so they’re both partially reclined. A pair of hands dip into the stream beside him as Laurent finishes refilling his canteen. The water he’s splashed on his face is slowly dripping down and cooling the fabric at his neck. He leans away from the stream to sit down on it’s bank as he closes the lid on his flask and idly watches the man beside him.

The morning they’d all set off from Abydos Elon, Aktis, Pallas, and Lydos had all been shocked to see Laurent walking out of the castle beside Nikandros. Damen had walked out of the stables leading the gorgeous golden filly from the paddock, completely saddled and ready for Laurent’s bags to be tied on. He’d given Damen a shocked look, having not seriously thought that he’d ever get his own horse, but Damen had just winked before going back into the stables to retrieve his own horse. It became Laurent’s turn to look surprised, when instead of Damen exiting the stables it was another man whom Laurent had never met, turning their number from seven to an even eight.

Their eighth travelling companion is the one currently sitting beside Laurent with a quiet concentration hanging over him while he fills his own water canteen. His hands are pale where they peek out from the sleeves of his plain brown jacket. His outfit is a simple cotton shirt and some brown breeches with his darker brown jacket and a worn, round-edge three-point hat sits upon his head to complete it. Nikandros had introduced him as Berenger and left it at that. That had been days ago and the other’s had clearly been expecting the man’s presence because they hadn’t caused any sort of fuss over it.

Despite his light skin and his dark hair and plain features, it had taken Laurent almost a week to figure out that the man was Veretian.

Laurent looks away from him and back up towards Nikandros and Damen, frowning as their words get louder but no more distinguishable. They’re speaking Akielon, with pallas and Elon chiming in occasionally.

 _“I wouldn’t worry about it._ ” Berenger says, in Veretian, and Laurent turns his head back to look at the man. His brown eyes are focused on Laurent, his hands fiddling with his flask. He looks to be only a few years older than Laurent is. Probably close to Auguste’s age, actually.

“ _I. I wasn’t aware you spoke the language.”_ Laurent says back in Veretian and Berenger gives him a small smile.

_“Which one?”_

Laurent’s brows rise in mild surprise.

_“Really? You speak Akielon as well?”_

Berenger gives a single nod of his head, looking back up at the Commander and the Prince. “I was born in Vere, just past Ravenel, but when I was incredibly young Vere took Delpha, and my family moved there. I grew up knowing Veretian, but there were still Akielons in the towns for quite a while, many of whom were absorbed by the Veretian side if they couldn’t escape to the Akielon one. I had a friend, someone about the same age as me in the village we moved to who was Akielon. He taught me how to speak it and after I went to Patras for schooling and came back I decided to actually go to Akielos. This was before this fighting started happening a few years ago.”

“And you’ve stayed in Akielos since?” Laurent asks and Berenger looks back at him.

“I have. I found employment under Meniados, I’d actually met Nikandros first and it was Nikandros who got me the job in Abydos. Nikandros is calling in a favor to have me travel with them.”

“How has your stay in Akielos been?” Laurent questions, curious, and Berenger gives him a faintly amused look.

“Far more welcoming than yours originally was, or so I’ve heard. Thea and Helen seem very fond of you.” He adds and Laurent gives a small smile in answer.

“I find I became fond of them as well. Their friendship was a very welcome thing.”

Berengers nods, standing and holding a hand out to help Laurent up. He takes it, pulling himself up before he goes to let go of Berenger’s hand but Berenger begins violently coughing and leaning away from Laurent. Worried, Laurent puts his hand on Berenger’s back and waits for the fit to pass.

“Are you alright?” He asks and Berenger waves him off unhurriedly.

“I’m fine,” His voice is still strained but he spends a moment clearing his throat to continue “It happens every year around this time. The harvest season kicks lots of things into the air that just don’t agree with me.” He finishes and Laurent frowns. It could be allergies. But they don’t typically show up as coughing and strained breathing - they show up more like sneezing and red itchy eyes.

“What are the symptoms?” He asks as they walk back up the small embankment to the horses. Laurent’s horse stands out among the rest with it’s bright shiny coat and it’s smaller stature. Berenger’s horse is brown and the same size as Laurent’s but it’s entirely unremarkable in comparison to the large beasts that the Akielons are riding of the same (or darker) color.

“I was told when I was younger that it was something called asthma. Though, I only learned that that was the name for it when I come to Akielos and saw an Akielon physician, no one in Vere had known what to call it. It’s a tightness in my chest, coughing, thin whistling breath. Things like that are common. It doesn’t last long if I’m inside, but outside is when it decides to act up. Which is a shame, because just outside Abydos I run a plot of land where I raise and breed horses, which means I’m outside quite a bit.” Asthma. That’s something he can help with.

“A horse breeder? Why would Nikandros need a horse breeder to go south? Do you have a pipe?” Laurent asks, turning away and digging through the saddle bags for one of his medical kits. He’s rather sure he’s got some shredded licorice root in one of these bags and licorice root is an anti-inflammatory so it’ll help a bit to ease Berenger’s coughing.

Berenger seems distantly amused, but he stays in Laurent’s eyeline while he answers the questions.

“I do have a pipe. It’s in my bag, I don’t tend to use it during harvest season, but I brought it just in case. And the Captain didn’t bring me along because of my horse-breeding. That’s a hobby, a very well paying one. I’m Meniados’ lawyer.” He says and Laurent stops his digging to give Berenger a curious frown.

“What reason does a Kyros need a lawyer?”

Berenger shrugs.”What reason does anyone need a lawyer?” Laurent doesn’t have an answer for that, so he asks a different question.

“What reason does Nikandros need to borrow a lawyer?” Berenger grins, watching curiously as Laurent finds the licorice root and then holds his hand out towards him. “Pipe? And a fire starter kit if you’ve got one.” Berenger goes over to his own horse, digging both the pipe and a tin container out of his bags in far less time than it had taken Laurent. He hands both over and Laurent begins putting some of the licorice root in the chamber of the pipe before expectantly holding it out. Berenger takes it back and puts the bit in his mouth, waiting while Laurent pulls out a piece of flint and a small fire striker.

He easily lights the shredded root, and motions for Berenger to begin smoking it. “Pull as deep a breath in as you can and hold it for a few seconds before slowly releasing it. Do this a few times.”

Berenger does without complaint, coughing a bit with the first inhale but easing into a few more. He looks at Laurent with wide eyes when Laurent motions that he can stop.

“That… I’ve never been able to breathe this easy during harvest season.” He finally manages to say and Laurent holds out the rest of the bundle of root.

“It’s licorice root, shredding it makes it easier to light or to grind. It’s an anti-inflammatory, which means it lessens the swelling of your body. Smoking it means it goes directly to your lungs and through your airways, it’s properties affect the swelling of your throat and lungs and help to ease your breathing and your coughing.”

“I had heard that you were a rather proficient physician, Mr. Renard” Berenger comments as he takes the bundle from Laurent and puts it in one of his saddle bags along with the fire kit.

“Thank you, but you didn’t answer my earlier question.” Laurent points out and Berenger laughs, emptying the pipe and packing it away as well.

“Ah, yes. What would Nikandros have need of a lawyer for. Why don’t you tell me what you think I’m doing on this trip, and I’ll tell you if you’re right or not.” Laurent frowns at him for a moment, trying to think it over.

A lawyer who breeds horses as a hobby and speaks both Akielon and Veretian. He really wasn’t sure how he was meant to fit Berenger into the rest of this group. He knew that Pallas, Aktis, Elon, and Lydos were there ostensibly to make sure their Crown Prince didn’t die. Nikandros was there to help Damen discern if Kastor actually was going against the Crown. Laurent was here because Nikandros claimed to have wanted a physician, which it was entirely possible he did but Laurent didn’t think that was the only reason Nikandros had wanted him along. And then there was Berenger.

Clearly, in any other situation he’d be an asset to the team. He seemed rather steady going, he spoke English, Akielon, and Veretian, and Laurent assumed he could speak some Patran as well if he attended school there for any period of time. He was clearly loyal and trustworthy, otherwise Laurent can’t see Nikandros or Meniados having granted a Veretian as much freedom in their country as Berenger has under either of them. But, to bring a Veretian deeper into Akielon territory when there’s a war against his countrymen and his Crown… Laurent can’t see any way that that is a positive or even a way of helping.

Laurent isn’t even sure if Berenger knows who Damen really is. He’s been calling him Naos anytime he wished to speak to the Damen - which hasn’t been often.

He finally gives Berenger a defeated shrug. There were some parts of this story he didn’t know and therefore he didn’t have the whole picture to try and connect the few dots that were available to him. Berenger gave him a small smile, but it didn’t seem mocking in any way.

“I see you hadn’t heard of me, as I had heard of you.” Laurent shook his head, feeling his cheeks heat a bit in embarrassment and hoping Berenger wouldn’t notice. Or that he’d think it a symptom of Laurent being unfamiliar with the heat of the Akielon summer sun shining down on them.

“I’m rather certain Meniados did that on purpose. Having the only two Veretians in his town becoming friends? He must have thought I’d corrupt you.” Laurent says drily and watches Berenger shake his head amusedly.

“I’m a lawyer by trade, it’s what I was taught and I’m very good at it. Sometimes I help Meniados when there are altercations of a greater nature than what can’t be solved by a simple public punishment. Many times I help him look over his taxes and other forms before he submits them to the King. I’m partially his bookkeeper, as well as an informant. He asks me about how Veretians go about trade or other such things that could affect him when merchants and the like come through. I spend a few days out of every week helping some of the citizens of lower station to read and write.”

“So you’re a Jack of all Intellectual Trades.” Laurent adds and Berenger gives him a nod.

“That’s an… Apt term for it. Nikandros has asked me along to---”

“Alright men, we’re camping here for the night!” Nikandros shouts, interrupting, and Laurent hears Lydos groan.

“What? We’re only half a day’s ride from Oricos!” Laurent and Berenger share a look before walking around Laurent’s horse so they can see the rest of the group. Laurent’s horse nudges his side as they pass and Laurent stops to gently pet her on the cheek.

He hasn’t come up for a name for her yet, but she’s a beautiful animal. Laurent is pretty sure it’s a Vaskian breed, though it’s been ages since he’s looked into such things. The last few years have been swamped with medical and war emergencies, he hasn’t had the time to go out riding - though he hasn’t really wanted to. Riding without Auguste there to race him seems… Not right. Unbalanced. It’s not the natural order of things. Laurent’s been ignoring it. Even now, on the road on a horse of his own, he’s been studiously trying to not look to his side in expectation of seeing Auguste beside him.

Lydos has heaved himself up into a sitting position and is looking at Nikandros with a frown. Nikandros isn’t looking at him and is instead looking to Damen, who has lead his horse away from the trail and down a small valley, hiding him almost entirely from view of the road.

“If we continue on we’ll reach Oricos well into the night, there will be no one awake to greet us or house us where we need to be and we’d likely garner too much attention arriving. If we break now and head off again tomorrow morning we’ll arrive around midday and will blend in far easier.”

“There’s a flat area down here big enough to start a fire and sleep on!” Damen yells up at them. Laurent takes a moment to look around at the rest of their surroundings. The stream runs on the opposite side of the trail to where Damen has found suitable ground. But down the rather steep hill to Damen, there seems to be a short bit of forest sprouting up. It can’t be longer than a few miles, but it means that there are likely animals that can be hunted and cooked for food. Or someone could take their horse and try their hand at fishing with no fishing gear.

Laurent ignores the amusing conversation of Lydos and Nikandros as they start arguing in Akielon, turning instead to get back up on his horse. He walks it away from the stream and towards the valley Damen is in. Berenger is giving him an inquisitive look and he shrugs. He might as well check it out while Nikandros and Lydos argue. It’s not like Lydos has the authority to actually get Nikandros to change his mind so they’re definitely staying here for the night. Laurent leads his horse down the grassy slope easy enough, his horse being incredibly intuitive to what Laurent wants. He makes it down and turns around a small cliff corner that he hadn’t seen from the road and there he finds Damen.

He dismounts just in time for Damen to throw a bedroll from his saddle at him and Laurent stumbles back a step on impact before giving Damen a dry glare. Damen grins and launches into a detailed description of the arrangements he pictures for their temporary camp for the night.

 

***

 

Lydos and Nikandros’ mild argument is quickly ended when Nikandros knocks Lydos into the stream. Pallas has been laughing the entire way down to their encampment as Lydos swears in rapid Akielon and drips his way downhill.

Aktis and Elon have tied the horses to some nearby trees and they were quick to gather some surprisingly dry wood to start a fire. Pallas had offered to ride a few miles away into the smattering of trees to see if there was anything that could be hunted as food and after Lydos had stopped dripping he’d also taken off into the forest. They’d both come back with a few rabbits that were quickly skinned and set over the small fire that Nikandros had started. Damen and Laurent had set up all the bedrolls after freeing the horses from their saddles for the night and they’d been set around the circle of the firepit.

Currently it was pitch black outside with only the faint light of a half moon and some stars to light the skies. The night had brought with it a few clouds that slowly drifted across the sky but never blocked out anything for more than a few minutes. Laurent has been staring up at the skies, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he sits on a dry part of the ground a bit removed from the group gathered around the fire.

With the return of Pallas and Lydos everyone has continued to speak in Akielon, save for Berenger who’d gone to sleep with little fanfare and was now quietly laying with his back to the flames for warmth. Laurent has given up trying to infer any information from the men based on their body language or hand gestures and has spent the past hours trying to occupy himself while willing himself to fall asleep. It hasn’t been working too well.

His mind wanders as he looks towards the skies. He used to know a few of the constellations, up in Arles at least. He didn’t know what they would’ve been called down in Akielos, if they even recognized the same constellations down here. Auguste had gone through a phase when they were younger, trying to learn each and every point in the sky and the stories that had gone with them. He’d been ten years old and high on the adventures of some pirates in a book he’d read that could navigate the world just by looking skyward. Laurent had been about three years old, and he can only barely remember that there had been tales of dragons and great bears and men wielding bows. He couldn’t recall which stars made up which stories, but he’d spent the last few hours finding groupings and making up stories of his own for them.

The distant heat of the fire is blocked for a moment and Laurent turns away from the sky to see Damen sitting down beside him with his chlamys wrapped around his shoulders. He looks back to the stars without a word and Damen sits beside him in silence for a moment. Laughter from the fire steals Laurent’s attention and he automatically looks towards the sound. Lydos is currently gesturing in wide arcs, his Akielon blurring together indecipherably in his laughter and Elon and Aktis look distantly amused while Pallas is laughing into his closed fist. Nikandros is even smiling down into his flask, listening.

Damen must have seen something in his expression that hadn’t been there before because he looks towards the group around the pit and away from Laurent. “It’s a story from Lydos’ first year training as a soldier. He’d been fourteen and----”

Laurent sighs. “I don’t care.” Damen’s attention is back on him.

“I don’t think that’s quite true.”

Laurent rolls his eyes. “I don’t care about Lydos stumbling about as a green on the training fields, Damen.”

“No, perhaps not. But you care that you can’t tell what we’re saying.”

Laurent’s jaw clenches and he looks away from Damen in the direction of the horses. He can see the metallic sheen of his horse’s hair reflecting in the firelight, even from this distance. A hand comes down gently on his shoulder and he turns back to Damen.

“It’s… I’m…” Laurent takes pity on him, leaning away just enough to get Damen’s hand to drop from his shoulder and fall back to his side.

“It’s your first language, Damen. We’re in your country. Of course they’d be speaking Akielon.”

“Yes but it’s quite rude to do so in front of someone who clearly doesn’t know the language.” Laurent gives him a look.

“If you think your men mind being rude to a Veretian, you should think again. I’m rather certain they wouldn’t be your men if they didn’t dislike Veretians as much as possible.” Laurent points out and Damen shakes his head in frustration.

“No. They wouldn’t be my father’s men if they didn’t dislike Veretians. I don’t personally have anything against them. Publicly, they took land that was rightfully ours and of course I want that land back. But that’s a Public Crown affair. It’s between the King’s of both countries. I don’t hate the countrymen for their ruler.”

“That doesn’t seem to be a wise choice for a Prince.” Damen shrugs, unrepentant.  

“Or perhaps it’s the wisest choice for a Prince. I would never punish one man for the crimes of those who far outrank him, nor would I treat a guest with disrespect based on where he was raised.” He says with a significant look in Laurent’s direction and this time it is Laurent who shakes his head.

“Speaking, of your country,” Damen begins after a moment and Laurent glances at him. “I’m surprised you haven’t made a run for it yet.”

“This far into Akielos, and the further we keep going, with little supplies of my own except for medical and personal, and you think I’m going to try and run back to Vere when the purported four best Akielon soldiers are travelling with me? I’m not actually that stupid, you know.”

Damen’s lips twitch at his dry tone and he looks amused. “I’d actually say that it’s the six best soldiers in Akielos. I know you didn’t originally count me and Nikandros but he’s not the Commander of Ios’ army for no reason, and I’ll have you know that I’m undefeated in all sports.”

“Of course that’s the part you would focus on.” Laurent says, exasperated, and Damen laughs softly.

“No. I just wanted to see the reaction I’d get out of you for it. And I only meant the running quip as simple surprise, not a judgement against your character. I already am well aware of your cleverness, Laurent. I’m not about to think you less than what you are.”

“But you think I would still run, given the seemingly great odds against me.” Damen looks away from him and back towards the fire, his expression one that Laurent can’t decipher.

“I think, Doctor, that you wish to go home. You’re here, yes, but it’s only temporary. You’re eyes…”

“What about my eyes.” Laurent asks, thrown, and Damen looks back at him. The firelight reflects off his.

“They say you’ll be here. That you’ll behave and stay put, for now. They’ve always said ‘For now’.” Laurent doesn’t have anything to say in return to that. He’s already broken down partially and told Damen his reasons for wanting to leave and go back home. He can’t tell him that he feels like a fish out of water for not the main reason, being a Veretian in Akielos, but for being a Veretian from the future in an Akielos of the past. Damen gives him one last look before standing.

“You should get to sleep, _Xenos_. Nikandros will have us leaving before first light, and it’ll be a very full day and night in Oricos.” Damen wanders over to his soldiers and Laurent pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders before laying down with his back to the group.

He falls asleep to quiet laughter and the guttural language of Akielon whispering over the crackling of a burning fire.

 

***

 

Where the rest of Sicyon had been a surprising stretch of flatter fields, Mellos is an infinitely more varied landscape. It switches between flat fields to forests to incredibly rocky land filled with high hills and steep valleys and lakes. They travel mainly through the center of the provinces, sticking to lesser known roads instead of high traffic areas, and they’ve come across many small villages on their way to Oricos.

Oricos itself is incredibly easy to identify even to someone who’s never encountered the city, and it truly is a city compared to the size of Abydos’ village. Where the population of Abydos could have generously been about two to three hundred people if one counted all the farmers of the province included, Oricos itself seemed to be host to at least a few thousands of people, only some of whom look to be farmers in town for trade.

Nikandros sends Elon and Aktis ahead into the town to garner a place to stay with enough beds for the lot of them for the night while the rest stop just outside of town. Berenger has a horse-breeding friend this deep in Mellos who gladly agrees to board and feed their horses for a small sum, which Nikandros easily and subtly pays. They haven’t immediately left the ranch, though, and Laurent has been roped into a conversation with Berenger about the path they were to take through Mellos to Dice and onward to Aegina in the next week or two. They were going to be very busy in the upcoming month.

Laurent finds out why they’ve been waiting at the farm when Nikandros and Damen emerge from behind the barn and Lydos begins laughing so hard he starts wheezing. Laurent looks away from his conversation with Berenger and immediately understands the reason for Lydos’ amusement.

Nikandros looks the same as he always does, a chiton of higher quality draped over his body and pinned at the waist and the shoulder with a deep red chlamys wrapped around his neck and falling down in a half cloak down his back but Damen-- Damen is the reason for Lydos’ laughter. Laurent watches Pallas try to elbow him in the ribs to no avail - Lydos falls to the ground instead and keeps on laughing.

Damen is back in the loose cotton shirt with the dark breeches he’d been wearing in Abydos, but now he's also wearing dark boots that lace up almost to his knees. There’s a vest of the same color as the breeches loosely laced up over the light shirt and Laurent's mouth drops open in shock. Damen’s dark, short, curls are gone and in their place is long, stringy, limp brown hair that is loosely tied back with a leather tie. He has a cap on on top of the hair and a horrible set of glasses sitting upon his nose. He’s been slowly growing a beard the past few weeks and now the reason for it was evident.

“What creature did you kill to put on your head?” Laurent found himself asking just as Lydos was calming down and he erupted into loud laughter once more. Pallas actually laughed at the remark and Damen gave him a sheepish grin and did a jaunty little twirl before bowing low with a sweeping gesture before Laurent.

“I haven’t killed anything, sir.” Damen’s accent is thicker than Laurent has ever heard it before and he's speaking deeper than he usually does. “I’m but a simple stable boy. I’m used to seeing blood around the farm, but it’s my brothers who do the hunting.” Damen finishes with a theatrical flourish and Nikandros actually snorts beside him. Damen stands back up with an easy grin before splaying his arms open at his sides and when he speaks again his voice is back to normal. “What do you think? With my father going north, I don’t want to bring up any undue suspicions. You asked me how I was going to get away with being recognized by the generals, and this is how. I’m Naos, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

They walk the short distance into Oricos before splitting up. Damen and Nikandros take Pallas with them, leaving Lydos with Berenger and Laurent. Nikandros says he’s going to make his presence known to the Kyros but that they won’t need to be in the castle until dinner time that night so they have the day to themselves. Lydos had insisted they meet up with Elon and Aktis to find out where they’d be sleeping for the night and to catch a proper meal before they did anything else.

It’s surprisingly easy to find the two soldiers, even on foot as they are and surrounded by droves of unfamiliar people. Berenger comments to Laurent that they’ve at least gone to one of the better hotels of the town, watching as Elon and Aktis wander out the front doors of a large establishment. They decide to walk towards the town center, where a market has been set up and is in full swing in the late morning sun. Aktis and Lydos lead the group to a particular vendor who is selling delicious smelling meats on sticks and Lydos buys some for Laurent while the rest of them all buy their own. The soldiers quickly scarf down the hot food, reverting back to their Akielon as they wander the marketplace waiting for Nikandros.

Lydos and Aktis are leading the group, stopping at random stalls and speaking with the vendors before launching back into the crowd and off to another stall. Berenger and Laurent are in the middle of the group with Berenger pointing out specific stalls for their art and their leatherwork, telling Laurent small facts about the process behind each little trinket or tool. Elon is behind them, silently bringing up the rear and paying more attention to the people around them than to any of the items or activities. Anytime Laurent tries to spend a little longer looking at a table of trinkets or gadgets it’s Elon who nudges him along with a rough poke to the arm.

They spend hours amidst the crowd of people, wandering from stall to stall, and Laurent quickly grows bored with trying to pay attention to Lydos and Aktis’ conversation. Berenger has spotted another friend, one apparently from his school years in Patras, and he’s excused himself to go catch up with them so now Laurent is without a conversation partner. Elon calls something ahead to his fellow soldiers and they nod before walking even further into the crowds.

Laurent tries to keep an eye on Lydos’ caramel hair, the most easily identifiable feature of any of the men, as it shines in the sun but the throng of people grows too tight. When Laurent finally manages to squish his way out of the crowd he can’t see any sign of the soldier. Or anyone else familiar. He turns in circles, trying to regain his bearings and look for his retinue. People keep bumping into him, turning to say something in short, sharp, Akielon and looking shocked at the sight of a Veretian in their town. He stumbles away from the points of higher foot traffic, pushing between people until he’s finally free.

There’s a large, round fountain in the center of the town square they were walking around that has low edges perfect for sitting on and Laurent decides to take a second and sit down. If he stays in the center then no matter where the soldiers or Berenger end up they should ostensibly be able to see him. It’s the best option, to just wait here. Even sitting down as he is, Laurent knows he’s standing out like a sore thumb. He can’t remember which street they’d come into the town square on, let alone the winding path they’d walked to get this deep into the city. He doesn’t fancy the idea of escaping, knowing that he doesn’t have enough knowledge about his surroundings to be able to get back out to his horse and take off. Which isn’t even considering the very small amount of supplies he has to even try and make the trip up to Delpha from Mellos when he’s never been in Akielos and doesn’t know his way around. He sighs and looks down at the water beside him.

It’s cool to the touch, especially against the near oppressive heat of the summer sun beating down from directly above. Silver and gold coins sparkle under the waves and he idly makes small swirls of waves with his hand upon the water’s surface. A shout to his left attracts his attention and he turns to see a group of young Akielon boys shove a younger Akielon girl to the ground. Despite not being able to tell what they’re saying he can still recognize taunting when he sees it and he stands and stalks over, getting close behind the boys and making his face carefully blank.

“It’s not very honorable to pick on someone smaller or younger than you.” His voice is stern and his tone dry and the boys all tense up before turning around and seeing him. Their eyes go wide and one of the boys, who is clearly the leader, quickly gets over the shock of seeing a Veretian so far south. He steps forward and boldly spits at Laurent’s feet, a younger echo of Aktis back in the shack weeks ago.

“As if you know of honor, snake.” he says, his voice high in young and pitched in disgust. His friends all nervously laugh and Laurent keeps his face empty.

“I know a great deal more than you, child. I’m not the one shoving people in the street. You’d better be leaving now.” He warns with a slight threaten in his tone and the boys sneers while his friends warily watch and take a few shuffling steps away from Laurent, unsure of what to do in the situation.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll tell the Commander of the Akielon army about you.” Laurent starts, eyeing their makeshift swords and armor and getting an idea. “If he finds out you have less honor than a dog then I doubt he’ll want to have you join the Akielon army.” The boys scoffs and Laurent tilts his head to one side. “I’ve been travelling with the Commander for the last week now but I’ve known him for longer. I’m sure he’d be very interested in hearing about the future of his army. What’s your name, again? I’ll be sure to keep it in mind to tell Nikandros.” Laurent adds and the boy’s expression slips just faintly. He’s unsure if he should be believing Laurent or not.

Someone shouts from some indiscernible area of the marketplace and the boy turns around, when Laurent follows his gaze it’s to see an older man and woman looking distrustfully at Laurent. They beckon their boy over and with one last look at Laurent he goes, his band of friends dispersing and leaving Laurent with a clear view of the girl they’d been bullying. He steps closer slowly, crouching down and holding his hand out palm up. She frowns at it before looking back up at him, her eyes are a bright piercing blue much like his own and they stand out starkly against her warm skin.

“Do you.. Do you actually know the Commander of the Akielon army?” She asks in halting English and Laurent gives a small bow of his head in assent.

“I do. I’m a guest of his house, or so he likes to say. My name is Laurent, I’m a doctor.” Her head tilts to one side curiously, much like Damen’s when he’s thinking about something. She reaches out to accept his hand and he helps her up, bowing to her once before letting go of her hand and she grins at him.

“Why would the Commander need a Doctor?” Laurent gives a small graceful shrug of his shoulders.

“I think he just likes my company.” He jokes and she looked dubious.

“But you’re Veretian.” Laurent finds himself grinning.

“That I am. I think that’s why he keeps me around. I’m a refreshing bit of class, compared to his soldiers.”

The little girl snorts and Laurent’s grin softens.

“Sure… Are you in Oricos with the Commander now?” She asks, stepping closer and playing with part of her cotton skirts.

“I am. He’s in the middle of an important mission, so he’s meeting with your Kyros.” This news makes the girl light up and she bounces excitedly on her toes before settling back down.

“He’s meeting with Leda? She’s my aunt, she’s been the Kyros for _ages_.” The girl reveals and Laurent feels himself start for a moment. The Kyros of Mellos was female? He didn’t remember that from any of the history books. He’d thought all the Kyros in Akielos had always been men.

“When I’m older she promised she’d teach me how to fight with a sword.” The girl says proudly and Laurent raises his eyebrows, impressed.

“Really? I don’t know how to use a sword, I bet you’d be better than me with one.” This makes the girl stare at him with wide eyes.

“You don’t know how to use a sword??” Laurent shakes his head.

“No. I’m a Doctor. I heal people’s cuts, I don’t make them.”

“Except with his wit, which can be incredibly sharp.” A voice interrupts from behind them and Laurent turns to see Damen in his full disguise, looking at the two of them amused. “If Leda is your aunt that must make you Lady Kleio, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Damen bows lowly and Kleio looks shocked at the use of her name, her wide eyes flick between Damen and Laurent.

“How did you know my name?”

Damen turns slightly, nodding over his shoulder to one of the side streets and Laurent can clearly see Nikandros standing off to the side and watching them carefully. He raises an eyebrow at Laurent and Laurent gives an impish and very fake grin back which makes Nikandros actually smile.

“I’m one of Nikandros’ soldiers. It’s my job to know everyone we might potentially meet or protect.” Damen says and the girl looks over at Nikandros, star-struck.

“When I’m older I’m going to be one of Akielos’ soldiers.” She states and Damen grins, holding out his hand and Kleio easily takes it.

“Akielos will be all the stronger for your service, Lady Kleio, I’m sure with Leda teaching you you’ll be a force to be reckoned with. Will you be coming to supper in the castle tonight?” He asks and Kleio nods.

“I eat supper with Leda everynight, her and mother spend most of the night discussing the war and what they’re going to do.” She says and and Damen looks thoughtful for a moment.

“I’ll make sure to mention you to Nikandros, and he can bestow his own blessing upon your training tonight, how about that?”

Kleio looks over the moon at the possibility and Laurent watches Damen interact with her silently. She’s completely forgotten that she’d been bullied and shoved around not moments before, now she’s standing with a straight back and a small puffed out chest.

“Really?” Her smaller voice is breathless in excitement and Damen nods. Her grin is wide and blinding in intensity in answer and she jumps at Damen to give him a hug, her harms hardly making it even halfway around his hips and her face smushed into his shirt over his stomach. “That would be amazing!” She devolves into excited Akielon and Laurent can no longer follow the conversation as Damen answers her in the same. Laurent hears someone call his name and he sees Berenger waving at him around the other side of the fountain. When he glances back to Damen it’s to see him gone, or well not gone but away from where he’d been. He’s leading Kleio away, into the crowd and away from Laurent and Nikandros. He disappears just as Nikandros makes it over to him.

“Making friends?” He asks dryly and Laurent makes sure to smirk, just to annoy him.

“And enemies.”

Nikandros raises an eyebrow.

“You’re making enemies of children?”

“One can never start too early when making enemies, Captain.”

 

***

 

It takes him well into the night to realize what he should have figured out that morning. Damen’s disguise isn’t only to hide himself from being recognized by generals or Kyros. It’s also to hide from two of their merry band of Prince’s Guard.

Whenever Elon or Aktis, or both of them, are around Damen is nowhere to be found. And when they’re gone Damen mysteriously appears, hiding in shadows and speaking in his thicker accent. After the scene that afternoon with Kleio, Laurent hasn’t spoken a single word with Damen. Nor has anyone else from their group. Nikandros outright ignores Damen in public, holding the attention of many townspeople who recognize their Commander.

This leads them to now.

They’ve been in the castle of Oricos since sundown. Leda is a gracious host and has offered them a fine table near the front of her hall, close to where her and her family are sitting. The set up is much like that in Abydos. Laurent is sat between Pallas and Berenger and he watches as the night progresses how much Nikandros had been drinking before he claims he’s going to retire for the night. He stumbles away through the crowded hall, ostenstibly to go back to their hotel for the night. Laurent frowns after him, watching as Lydos goes as well and when he turns back to his table companions Pallas is nowhere to be seen. He opens his mouth to ask Berenger where Pallas had gone but Berenger had beat him to it, pointing silently across the hall where Pallas has joined a group of rough looking soldiers who’re playing a drinking game.

Berenger stays his side, slowly eating his food and nursing a single glass of wine, he engages Laurent in light conversation, explaining the rules of the drinking game Pallas is taking part in (and winning), and talking a bit about some of his schooling experience. Laurent shares a bit of his own training, which was mainly field work and little bookwork, though he’d read and reread all the medical and herbal books in the library in their home in Marches multiple times when they’d all returned home after the war.

Laurent doesn’t notice Damen sitting behind him, a mirror to image with his back to Laurent’s and his hands holding a cup of water. Elon and Aktis have both wandered off with far more purpose than their comrades and Laurent can see them standing and speaking somberly with a group of men who Berenger explains are some of Leda’s generals and higher ranking council members.

The trays of food which after being passed around and picked over, were now resting on a long row of tables to one side of the hall for anyone who still wishes for another bite. Berenger excuses himself to go grab another bread roll, offering to pick one up for Laurent and he shakes his head. In turning to watch Berenger go, Laurent catches sight of Damen’s disguised back, hair, and horribly ratty cap but before he can say anything Elon and a man walk by, speaking thick Akielon in low voices. Laurent frowns and Elon notices, rolling his eyes and saying something to the man he was walking with. The man looks at Laurent and his lips twist into a leer. He says something that makes Elon laugh. They continue walking and Laurent’s attention sharpens at the sound of a single word in the middle of their quiet muttered conversation. ‘Kastor’. Elon laughs again and the two of them finally bypass the table and disappear out of the dining hall.

When Laurent turns to look back for Damen all he sees is an empty table and single glass of wine, untouched, at the empty seat.

 

***

 

Laurent watches and silently compiles scenes as they travel. Their nights on the road sleeping under the stars are interrupted by other nights spent sleeping inside under cozy thatched roofs. The dinner conversations go from friendly comradery around a fire to cold indifference in wooden seats. Damen keeps hiding from Elon and Aktis who seem to think that Damen is making himself scarce around the Kyros and Generals. They haven’t seen Damen in disguise once, and his beard is getting longer, but Laurent ensures he personally keeps an eye on the Prince.

When they’re eating with a host Damen stays close enough that if Laurent but turned in his seat he’d be within arms reach. Yet his back is always to his men and Pallas, Lydos and Nikandros never point him out or bring attention to him. He blends in seamlessly with the locals and the soldiers, his skills at hiding far exceeding his attempted ‘hiding in plain sight’ from Abydos. Laurent doesn’t know where the actual, working, subterfuge is coming from but it’s working. Each night he watches Nikandros retire after drinking a rather large quantity of wine, taking either Pallas or Lydos with him and leaving the other to fend for themselves. And every night Elon and Aktis separate themselves and sneak around to speak to lower ranking councilmen and soldiers. Kastor’s name comes up more and more often around Laurent, and being in such close quarters with Akielons speaking Akielon means he’s starting to pick up a few words here and there.

He’s the most familiar with the curses and the insults. Sometimes a soldier with say insults and Damen’s full name, and Aktis or Elon will laugh and make a toast to Kastor. Laurent sits idly by, watching as the repetition of their tasks and the warmth of their drinks makes him disappear to all the Akielons who during the day watch him with scorn and distaste. It makes it rather a convenient excuse to pardon himself and Berenger to go back to whichever place they’re staying in for the night.

It’s well into October, when the dots connect themselves in Laurent’s brain and the picture it paints is one Laurent is already familiar with. He doesn’t know why it’s taken him this long to see it.

He waits one night when they’re eating with the Kyros of Thrace, Aratos. Nikandros makes his excuses and brings Pallas and Berenger both with him for an early night. It’s the third official Kyros they’ve eaten with and Laurent knows by now that when they enter each town and Nikandros goes to make himself known it’s to an actual purpose. Nikandros has been officially tasked with gathering the generals and the bannermen of Akielos for Theomedes as a testament to his power as Commander of the entire Akielon Army, and the Captain of the army of Ios. Each day he speaks with the lords and ladies of the court, convincing them of the nobility in following their King to fight for their country, and each night he spends drinking toasts in the Kings honor and in preparation for each town’s march north.

Laurent stays behind and right on schedule Elon and Aktis depart their table and begin to make their rounds. He feels Damen stand behind him and he turns to watch as he weaves his way around tables and drunken men and women. Damen never leaves this early. Laurent gets up and subtly follows him out of the hall. It may be only the third Kyros’ castle, but it’s easily the ninth or tenth place they’ve stopped in. Nikandros has been going to the capitals of each province, but also to it’s lesser known but still just as busy cities to speak with everyone available. Sometimes their nights are spent with Kyros, but mostly their nights are spent with bannermen, councilmen, and generals. Nikandros leaves no stone unturned and no influential man or woman unspoken to. Damen has his disappearing act completely well rehearsed, and no one notices him leave or his Veretian shadow. Laurent has been practicing disappearing as well.

He slips through a side hallway that he knows leads to block Damen’s exit, which he learned about on a tour of the Kyros’ castle earlier today, and when Damen passes by he reaches out from the darkness and grabs the front fabric of his shirt. He pulls Damen into the darkness for but a moment before opening up a door and hauling Damen inside with him. It’s a spare linen room with baskets of unfolded laundry waiting and the thick smell of soap and lavender permeating the air.

“Wha---Laurent?” Damen starts and Lauret gives him a look like ‘who else?’

“I know what’s been going on.” He says and Damen blinks at him before sighing.

“I feel as though I’ve heard you say those words before.”

Laurent rolls his eyes. “Elon and Aktis. You knew. You’ve known this whole time that they’re Kastor’s men.” He accuses and Damen’s eyes widen before he grabs Laurent around the wrist and drags him deeper into the room so their voices are muffled by hanging sheets and they’re not immediately visible should someone open the door. He shuffles Laurent behind a large sheet hanging from a thin cord that cordons off a small dark corner of the room. The fireplace is lit but the sheet blocks most of its light from this particular corner so they’re both draped in soft darkness. Damen looks back at the door exactly once before turning his full attention on Laurent.

“What makes you say that.” It’s not even a question. His voice is hard, harder than Laurent has ever heard it and Laurent thinks upon whether he should be treading lightly or not. He decides not, it’s not as if he’s ever tread lightly around the Prince before.

“Your disguise for one. You only put it on when Elon and Aktis aren’t around and won’t be around to see you in it at all. You make yourself entirely scarce when we’re in any town and Elon or Aktis could see you - despite the fact that the Kyros and generals are never out and about in town to supposedly recognize you as Damianos. The only time I’ve seen you is when Berenger and I go to the markets, I can see glimpses of you following us; keeping an eye on me. There’s also the fact that as soon as Nikandros leaves for the night Elon and Aktis immediately zero in on men who aren’t in the highest leadership positions, or they are but they’re unhappy. It seems that your father’s Kyros are incredibly loyal, and even Kastor knows he can’t won’t be able to make them turn against you or your father so he’s working his way down.”

“Where did you get Kastor from any of this?” Damen interrupts and Laurent gives him a flat look.

“I’ve been travelling with the lot of you for weeks now, and before that I lived a month in an Akielon town. I’ve been able to pick up a few words here and there. But Kastor’s name is entirely too easy to pick out, as is yours. And even if I can’t tell what they’re saying it’s not hard to decipher _how_ they’re saying it. Aktis and Elon are slandering your name and your father’s while drinking toasts to Kastor. You listen to them do this, every night without fail. You knew that they were Kastor’s men. It’s never been just about catching Kastor, it’s about exposing him. You’ve known the whole time.”

Damen shakes his head but his defensive stance relaxes and he leans back against the stone wall like a puppet with its strings cut. His face is devoid of any emotion and he’s looking down at the floor near Laurent’s feet.

“I didn’t, actually. Nikandros suspected, and he brought his suspicions up with me but I didn’t want to believe…” A muscle in Damen’s jaw twitches an Laurent feels a pang of affinity echo in his chest. Damen hadn’t wanted to believe Kastor would betray his family, he’d said so back in Meniados’ stable when Laurent had confronted him on his identity. But here he was, with practically irrefutable proof and it was hurting him. Laurent couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if Auguste had ever tried to betray him in such a way - it was unthinkable. Laurent thinks that were he and Auguste in Damen and Kastor’s place, Laurent wouldn’t see it coming either. He’d probably even turn a blind eye to any signs of treachery just like Damen had wanted to.

They knew, in the future, that Kastor had been sowing seeds of dissent for many years. Taking the opportunity of his family being distracted by the Siege and starting his own campaign under their noses. They just hadn’t known that he’d raised support through his own disgruntled countrymen. There was still the Veretian element, which had yet to be uncovered, but this news was something Laurent wouldn’t have expected if he hadn’t been watching it happen before his own eyes and less experienced ears.

“How do you do it?” He asks, his voice soft, and Damen still doesn’t look at him. “You listen to them say horrible things about you and praise and support your brother and yet during the day you treat them as you treat Lydos and Pallas and even Nikandros. Like close companions with the entirety of your trust. How?”

Laurent watches Damen’s lower lip wobble for a fraction of a sentence before Damen’s eyes lift to meet his. They’re hard with resolve but Laurent can still see sadness reflecting in them.

“I don’t know.”

The answer brings Laurent up short.

“Pardon?”

“ _I don’t know, Xenos_. This… Knowing that my brother hates me and our father enough to try and overthrow us - even kill us - it’s… It’s tearing me up inside like the worst kind of storm. I can’t ride back to Ios and my brother. I can’t grab hold of him and try to shake some sense into him. I can’t go to every soldier or lord he’s garnered support from and ask them why. There is only one thing I can do and that is my duty as Prince of Akielos. I’m the face of my country. I’m going to be King. I must show a solid front for my people. Even if that means acting as though nothing is awry with Elon and Aktis.”

The silence rings between them with tension and Laurent can see the beginnings of Damen’s carefully constructed strength begin to break. His hand reaches out as if he’s going to put in on Damen’s arm, but he freezes and pulls it back, unsure. Auguste was always the better one between the two of them when it came to comforting people.

“I… Teach me Akielon.” Laurent says at last and Damen’s brow furrows. His face screws up in confusion, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and when he speaks his voice is thick.

“E-Excuse me?”

“Teach me Akielon. When Nikandros disappears for the night I become next to invisible. The men know I can’t understand Akielon so they don’t worry about me. I could help you if I knew how to speak Akielon. You keep your back to the room so no one can see you or recognize you, but that means you can’t see what’s going on either - I can. Teach me Akielon.”  

Damen think about it for a second, still thrown a bit by the sudden change in topics, but he no longer looks like he’s about to break down on Laurent so Laurent’s counting it as a win.

“I’d be a better help to you than your captain, who gets consistently drunk each night and retires early.” Laurent presses and Damen shakes his head.

“He’s not actually getting drunk, just acting like it. It’s another part of the whole thing. With Nikandros in the room they’d be on their best behaviour. With him and I gone, they think they’re free to do as they please so long as Pallas or Lydos are distracted. It’s a carefully cultivated act. Nikandros drinks grape juice all night. It looks like wine but does nothing.”

Laurent’s face must show his surprise because Damen actually let’s lose a small chuckle. His dimple reappears.

“And I thought you to be clever, _Xenos._ ” Laurent rolls his eyes. “I’ll teach you Akielon, so long as you teach me something.” Damen barters and Laurent gives him an exasperated look.

“You’re a Prince, what could I possible teach you?”

Damen shrugs.

“Figure something out. Teach me something new, _Xenos_ , and I’ll teach you to speak my language.”

 

***

 

It takes them two more weeks to reach their final destination, the capital city of Kesus - Mesos. They’ve settled into a routine by now that doesn’t change except for where they are.

Their horses are left outside of town. Damen gets changed into his disguise while Elon and Aktis look for lodging. Nikandros takes one or two soldiers with him to greet the Kyros and ensure their willingness to march north. Laurent spends the day exploring the markets with Berenger. Damen shows up for dinner, disguised, and Nikandros still leaves early. The one thing that has changed is now Laurent whispers in low Veretian to Damen the descriptions of the men Elon and Aktis speak to, receiving their names and ranks in return from the veritable index Damen has in his head of all the court of Akielos. It’s an impressive show of knowledge.

Speaking of knowledge, Laurent still has yet to find something he can teach Damen but Damen has started teaching him Akielon in any moments they can steal away from the rest of the group. Damen enlists Berenger’s help and Berenger is a patient teacher, helping Laurent learn new words by showing him items and people as they wander through the towns. It’s only been two weeks but Laurent is now capable of introducing himself and asking for a small number of items. He also understands some of the curses Aktis aims his way - Damen delights in teaching him to speak like an ill-mannered Akielon pirate.

Laurent spends more time watching the other soldiers now, watching how they all act together and complete the same scene day by day. Nikandros drinks copious amounts of grape juice and acts merrily enough that most assume him to be drunk, if not on drink then also on sleep deprivation from travelling for so long. Berenger sits calmly but his eyes are always roaming, and when Laurent pays attention to it he noticed that Berenger is picking out the men Aktis and Elon will speak to each night. He’s able to tell any disillusioned men from the rest with a single calculated but calm glance and he’s right every time. Pallas and Lydos almost always leave the table to go in search of other companions, and Laurent watches as they constantly keep things loud and exciting across the hall from where Damen and he sit. Laurent catches glimpses of them looking just as unhappy by Elon and Aktis’ actions as Damen.

Damen and Nikandros have received word from Theomedes about heading north to Sicyon. The Kyros of Ellium, and Theomedes’ closest General, has managed to push his way up into Delfeur and is currently camped halfway into the territory. They’ll be riding out tomorrow morning to meet him on the front lines, but tonight they sleep in proper beds for the last night.

Laurent has just finished his spying for the night, relaying the looks of the young men Aktis and Elon are monopolizing, and he’s so focused on navigating his way out of the castle that he doesn’t even notice Aktis until he quite literally bumps into him.

Aktis turns with a swear, his expression darkening when he realizes who’s run into him.

“Ah. It’s the snake. Done sitting alone for the night?” He taunts but Laurent just rolls his eyes and tries to slip past. Aktis grabs his wrist in an iron grip, pulling him back and shoving him up against the wall. Laurent scowls, trying to pull his arm free but Aktis’ hold doesn’t let up.

“I’m talking to you, worm.” He growls and Laurent juts his chin up to glare at him head-on.

“I don’t make a habit of speaking to people who have less intelligence than a pig. I find it tedious.” He snaps and Aktis leans in close, his breath foul and fanning across Laurent’s face.

“Careful snake. There’s no Prince to keep watch on you here.”

Laurent jerks his arm downward, hard, and it surprises Aktis enough to make him release his hold. Laurent doesn’t move away, though, instead he leans right into Aktis’ space while glaring at him.

“You’d best be careful soldier. I know what you’ve been doing, and you’ve chosen the wrong brother.” Laurent sneers and Aktis’ expression drops to one of shock before returning to anger. He brings his arm up, holding it horizontally and pushing Laurent back into the wall with the arm across his upper chest.

“You know nothing, _snake_ . And if you think about telling anyone what you _think_ you know you’ll be dead before those pretty lips can form a single word.” Aktis whispers to him, the scar on his cheek scrunching with his snarl.

“I _know_ you’re on the wrong side of history.” Laurent says before kicking at Aktis’ sandaled feet. Aktis jumps back with a hiss when Laurent’s booted foot connects and Laurent slips away from him and further down the hallway, walking backward to keep his eye on the soldier. “No one will remember your name. And all this effort will be for naught. You’ll never win.” He slips outside, pausing just for a moment to catch his breath before running through the streets for the pub where they’re spending the night. His heart is racing in his chest.

Letting Aktis know he was on to them definitely isn’t the brightest idea he’d ever had. But it had happened and now all that is left to do is deal with it.

This is going to make the ride back to Sicyon and beyond very interesting. Very interesting indeed.

 


	5. the words unspoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Friends,” Damen murmurs in Akielon, “Is that what we are?” 
> 
> Laurent gives him a helpless sort of look. “Damen.”
> 
> “That’s enough of that--” The Veretian soldier interjects, shoving between the two of them and pointing his finger in both of their faces. Laurent leans away but Damen looks like he’s two seconds away from biting that finger clean off the man’s hand.

The ride back north is only marginally quicker than their journey south had been and that is mainly due to the fact that their journey North is rather straightforward. They had followed a very roundabout and winding road through the provinces the first time so that they could hit any city with enough power to be helpful to the Akielon cause. Now they are going north to meet up with Theomedes and Makedon who are pushing further and further into Delfeur.

They spend most of their northbound journey on the road, only stopping in towns to buy more food and supplies. This means more nights are spent under the stars (and when the weather is particularly rough, rain). If they’d been riding through Vere at this time of the year they would have had to stop every night in a tavern with a stable and they’d be far more bundled up. It’s now December and the only signs of the season in Akielos are the slowly changing colors of the area around them. Mellos’ wide array of hills and valleys and trees are slow to turn brown and orange, and when they passed through the trees had still been holding onto all their leaves. Their path through Sicyon showed only slight changes. The fields are now empty rows of plowed dirt, ready for the next springs planting season, the trees are a sea of dark reds and oranges with the sharp green of coniferous pines becoming more and more frequent a sight.

They drop Berenger off back in Abydos before they stop in Karthas so Nikandros can send a rider to the Akielon camp to find out where exactly Makeon and Theomedes have made their stand. They stay in Karthas for a few nights gathering their energy and eating actual meals and Laurent uses the chance to stock up on medical supplies. He still longs to go home, it’s been four months since he came back through the stones, but now the longing has settled into his bones like the ache of a cold winter’s night. Sometimes he can escape it by doing tasks to warm himself up but it’ll still creep back in and keep him company through the night. He’s never completely without it but he knows he can live with it.

Their rider comes back on the third day with directions to the main camp and the status of how the siege is holding. The Akielon army is currently halfway into Delfeur and they’ve stopped marching forward to hold the line through the winter season until the weather warms up and the snow melts away. Despite the fact that the Veretians have the advantage in having weapons adaptable to winter conditions the Akielons have been holding the line with little to no problem, which doesn’t say much for the skill of Laurent’s countrymen. Aktis keeps giving him smug looks when he thinks Nikandros and Damen aren’t watching.

Aktis has yet to make a move to expose Laurent or even to threaten him again, instead keeping close to Elon and making his displeasure known by sneering even more openly at Laurent and trying to corner him when he thinks they’re alone. Laurent makes sure there’s never a moment when they are.

They ride out the same day their rider gets back, making the day and a half ride in easy time. Damen is almost immediately swept away to his father, Nikandros in tow, and so Laurent sticks close to Pallas and Lydos while trying to ignore the blatant looks he’s receiving from the men and women of the Akielon army. This far north and this far into the cold season they’ve traded their traditional leather armor for armor with more coverage, and Laurent sees more than one person walking around with their chlamys wrapped around their shoulders like a blanket.

They’re not immediately on the front lines, they are in fact a few miles back, so the atmosphere around the camp is more calm than Laurent had figured they’d be. People sit in tight circles around small campfires with sticks rigged to hold a large pot just inside the flames. Akielon echoes off around him as people are called to drills and patrols while others who are just getting off of their shifts are finding their friends to settle down for a meal.

Damen has been teaching him Akielon for 2 months now and Laurent has mastered the most basic aspects of the language, and is even capable of understanding most things spoken around him - if not being able to speak it quite as proficiently. Damen’s been very impressed with his progress and it was one night while returning through Mellos that Laurent had finally figured out what he could teach Damen in return. They’d been wandering around far enough outside of camp to not be heard under the pretense of gathering more wood for the fire. The night had been a clear one, the stars clearly visible especially with the moon being only a small sliver in the sky, and Damen had been telling him of of an old Akielon tale about a certain set of stars in the sky.

There had once been a great and talented Akielon hunter who declared that he could rid the earth of all it’s wild animals. This declaration had angered the Earth goddess and she sent a scorpion to defeat this mighty hunter. He tried to battle the scorpion but was quick to realize that nothing he could do or use could pierce the scorpion’s armor. To avoid the scorpion and it’s poison he jumped into the sea. The great god of the sun had watched this whole scene take place and decided to help the Earth goddess.

He went to his sister who was the goddess of the hunt, and the great hunter’s friend, and pointed out the hunter in the sea. He told her that the hunter was a horrible villain and he dared her to shoot it with her bow and arrow. Because they were so far away up in the sky she could not see that the creature in the water was her dear friend and so she drew her arrow back and took the shot. She hit her target and when she came to earth and swam to retrieve her victim she discovered that it wasn’t a villain but her friend.

The goddess begged the other gods to bring her friend back to life but they refused, not wanting to anger the Earth goddess. And so, instead, the goddess decided to put her friend’s picture in the sky so she could always see him. And now all of us on Earth can see him and remember to not be boastful about our accomplishments and to always be careful of judging something or someone before we can see the whole picture.

The story had awoken in Laurent the long lost stories that Auguste used to tell him about their own constellations up in northern Vere and so once a week Laurent would quietly tell Damen stories. They started off as being ones about constellations but quickly grew to encompass folk tales and any other story Laurent could remember. Damen was enamored, and a highly appreciative audience. Sometimes Laurent would tell the stories in English around the campfire, and Berenger would add on anything he could remember of the same tales. Othertimes Laurent would tell them to Damen in halting Akielon to practice his usage of the language. Damen would help him when he missed a word or couldn’t find the right one, and it helped Laurent pick the language up even faster.

By the time Damen is able to get away from his father it’s dark outside and Pallas and Lydos have dragged Laurent to one of the campfires with some of their fellow palace soldiers whom Laurent hadn’t met before. Conversation has been short between them all and when Pallas tries to hand Laurent a bowl of the stew that is cooking over the fire many of the men protest. They don’t wish to share their scarce food with a Veretian, and they don’t want a Veretian sitting with them, and they don’t want to even see a Veretian unless it’s on the other end of their swords or guns. Pallas stands up, giving Laurent his own bowl of food, and is about to unleash what is sure to be a great defence of Laurent’s character but Damen’s presence beats him to it.

Damen easily climbs over the backs of the benches before squeezing in beside Laurent and smiling at him with his dimple on clear display. He’s managed to shave sometime since arriving back in camp. He reaches out and ruffles Laurent’s hair before asking Pallas if he’s going to get any food for himself. The men are speechless as they watch Damen pull a bread roll from a pocket in his outfit and hand it to Laurent. It’s still hot from wherever Damen had grabbed it from. Laurent gives him a questionable look but thanks him and Damen subtly winks at him, outwardly shrugging before grabbing a bowl of stew for himself.

He introduces Laurent to each of the men around the circle, and even Elon and Aktis come over to sit with them and eat. Aktis is just, if not more, as hostile as the rest of the men around the fire but Elon is calm and collected and even joins Damen in telling the men about their adventures in Abydos and even their adventures north when they’d first met Laurent. Lydos decides to regale everyone with a very exaggerated version of Laurent fixing Damen’s shoulder, and Laurent finally gets to hear the story of how that injury came to be in the first place.

It’s Nikandros who comes to grab him before the men start turning in for the night, and he’s shown to a large tent on the edges of the camp. It’s made of a plain white cotton and there are torches within that cast shadows along the walls as people pace around inside. Nikandros holds the tent flap open for him and when he steps inside he realizes what it is. There are rows and rows of low made cots, simple in their construction, and less than half of them are taken up by reclining Akielon soldiers in various states of decline. There’s a man sitting on the cot right inside the door, his head in his hands, and Laurent sees that one of his leg’s stops just below the knee and is wrapped in thick strips of cotton bandage. It’s an infirmary.

Nikandros signals one of the women who is tending to a man with his head wrapped in bandages, Laurent can see red starting to bleed through, and she calls over another attendant before walking towards them. She’s got on a light brown apron, the front of which is covered in all manner of liquids and smudges.

“This is Laurent Renard. He’s a Veretian physician. He’s been travelling with me and my group for the past few months, he’s a very skilled physician and he’s at your disposal. He’s going to be sleeping and staying with you while he’s here.”

She frowns and looks at Laurent, her face is unimpressed. _“You soldiers are always throwing the strays our way. I don’t have time to test or teach new people, not right now. Can he even speak Akielon?”_

 _“A bit. I’m not a master in any form but I’m decent.”_ Laurent answers before Nikandros can and he watches Nikandros’ face go slack in surprise. The woman looks between the two of them amused, but still doubting.

“And where did you learn to speak like that, _pet_?” Nikandros finally asks. Laurent purposely doesn’t react to the nickname, which Nikandros usually uses to get a rise out of him, and instead raises a cool eyebrow.

_“Damen’s been teaching me.”_

This time it’s the woman who looks shocked, likely at the familiar use of her Crown Prince’s name, and Nikandros sighs.

“Of course he’s been.” Nikandros turns to the woman, his hand coming up to brush over his face in exasperation. “Rhoda, please, just… Give him a bed for the night, I have nowhere else to put him for now. He really is a competent doctor. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.”

Rhoda raises an eyebrow.

“... Did you hear about Belen?” Nikandros finally asks and Rhoda’s face goes somber. She nods once and Nikandros motions towards Laurent, who knows where this is going. “He was there that day he---”

“You were the physician. The one Meniados mentioned.” She interrupts, all her focus on Laurent and he gives her a nod. She seems to consider this for a moment before she looks back up at Nikandros. “Alright. We’ll take him. For now, Commander. We could use another doctor during the nights, but during the days there is nothing for him to do we’ve got only a few patients who need care right now.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure I can find something for him to do during the days.” Nikandros steps in closer, leaning down and lowering his voice so only the three of them can hear. “I just need somewhere that he can sleep where the soldiers won’t be tempted to slit his throat in the night. I don’t want to bring him to the attention of Makedon or Theomedes-Exalted right now.” Rhoda nods, her face lightening in recognition and understanding.

“Of course, they have other things to worry about right now. We’ll keep him out of trouble as much as we can.” She grants and Nikandros’ head dips in acknowledgement.

“I’ll be sending soldiers to keep an eye on him during the day---”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Laurent interrupts and Nikandros looks unimpressed.

“They’ll be protecting you, it’s everyone else I’m worried about. My soldiers are incredibly well trained but tensions are high right now and you’re an easy target, don’t try and fight me on this pet. It won’t work.”

Nikandros leaves without another word, the tent flap slipping closed  with a small rustle and Laurent turns back around. Rhoda’s eyes draw slowly away from the entrance of the tent and focus back on Laurent.

 _“So, a Veretian doctor in Akielos.”_ She begins, grinning, and Laurent finds himself taking an automatic step back.

 

***

 

They’ve been in the camp for four days when Laurent finds he has even less of a tolerance for the guards here than he had for them in Abydos.

Every hour after lunch, typically well into the night, Laurent spends in the infirmary with Rhoda. The other physicians and nurses don’t know whether to trust him or not but Rhoda seems glad of another set of experienced hands. He helps to change bandages, and even teaches them about sterilizing their bandages and wounds to help promote proper healing and they’ve implemented it into their routine. He’s also been able to teach them about some herbs and salves for pain and proper skin growth and they’ve taught him how to make salves that help scar tissue grow back softer so that movement is less impinged later on.

Currently he’s out in the Veretian/Akielon wilderness with Elon on his tail. He’s been wandering the local forest and fields where they haven’t been trampled by armies looking for any supplies that could be useful. So far he’s managed to find a few willow trees that he’s used a small knife and cut off smaller bits of bark from. This far north there are small patches of snow, but there is still just as much dying greenery and ground showing as there is snow and Laurent is looking for dying herbs that he can pluck and harvest the roots of. He’s also looking for any spare seconds he can spend without having a soldier breathing down his neck.

Damen has managed to slip away from his Prince-ly duties for the day and is also exploring with Laurent. Though, Laurent expects it’s less ‘slipped away’ and more just completely abandoned at this point. He picks random plants and brings them to Laurent for Laurent to look at, much like a puppy retrieving sticks and showing them to its owner. It’s amusing, for Laurent, and with Damen so close Elon is staying farther away than he would be if Damen wasn’t here, so Laurent isn’t about to discourage him.

Damen is giving Laurent another Akielon lesson and is having him describe herbs and plants he’s looking for in Akielon words. Then Damen returns with a plant he thinks fits the description Laurent gave. He also isn’t correcting any of the words Laurent uses, so when Laurent uses a completely wrong word he only finds out when Damen comes back with a plant completely different than how he’s thought he’d described it. They then go over what Laurent has said and more often than not Laurent is the one to pick out which word he’s said wrong.

Laurent hasn’t realized how far away from camp they’ve gotten until he looks up and he can’t see Elon anywhere. When he slowly glances around and takes a closer look at their surroundings, as well as finally pays more than two seconds of attention to the sounds around them, he finds there are no signs of the camp either. No distance shouts or clangs of metal from training or metal working. No flashes of white tents between bare trees. Laurent can’t see any sign of Damen either, which is a little more concerning.

“Damen?”

Laurent turns back in the direction he last remembers Damen heading off in and then begins walking, digging through his bag and putting away his small knife and the last bits of a yarrow plant he’d found.

“Damen? I think we’re pretty far from the camp. I can’t hear anything, or see anything through the trees. Perhaps it’s time to head---” Laurent cuts himself off, looking up as he passes a group of pine trees and stumbles upon a sight he isn’t expecting. His mouth falls open.

Before him is Damen, on his knees with a fierce expression on his face. His hands are up, resting on his head and there’s a gun aimed at his head.

Four sets of eyes turn at his entrance and Damen moves as if to stand.

 _“Laurent, you have to run, don’t---”_ He starts in Akielon only to be pushed back down by the man holding the gun against his head.

“Shut up, barbarian. You move and I put a bullet through your skull.” The three men are quite clearly Veretian soldiers. Their uniforms are the stark navy blue of the Crown, and their skin is lighter than most people Laurent has seen in months. The one with the gun to Damen’s head looks to be the one in charge. He’s got dark brown hair, shorn short along the sides and only marginally longer atop his head. He’s got a stout square face and a sunken in nose like he’s been kicked in the face by an ox.

“Stop!” Laurent hasn’t even thought about speaking, or moving, but the sight of Damen on his knees causes him to step forward several paces. He can’t take his eyes off Damen’s, his heart is racing. Later his mind will fill with questions. Like who knows what will happen to the future if Damen is killed before the war. Will Akielos still get Delpha? Will Akielos and Vere still form an alliance? But for now the only thought he has is that he doesn’t want to watch Damen die right in front of him. Not if he can help it.

The Veretian soldier looks away from Damen and up to Laurent, his face changes from angry to calm in such short time that Laurent would be incredibly impressed with the acting if it had happened anytime other than this one.

“Sir, we’ve been watching you for some time today. We’re aware that there’s a large Akielon army camp not far from here and we’re with the Veretian forces. Are you alright?” The man’s voice is even, and he doesn’t look away from Laurent while he speaks. “If these men are holding you against your will simply say the word and we can end it here. Our camp isn’t far, and we’d happily help defend a fellow Veretian.”

Laurent is speechless, his eyes flickering between the soldier and Damen. Damen sees him deliberate for a moment before he sighs and Laurent watches Damen slumps forward, his expression defeated and his eyes closing. Defeat sits poorly on Damen’s face and the sight of it makes Laurent extremely uncomfortable. He’s walking forward and kneeling in front of Damen before he even thinks about it, his hands coming up and cupping Damen’s cheeks. Damen’s eyes flutter open in shock and Laurent stares determinedly into his eyes.

“I’m not being held hostage. I’m a guest of Commander Nikandros. I’m a physician, I’ve been helping any men who come into the camp who are injured.” Laurent finally looks away from Damen’s eyes and up at the soldier who’s watching as Laurent’s hands drop from Damen’s face. The gun glints in the sunlight shining through the trees and Laurent frowns at it. “Put your gun away, you have no reason to use it here.”

Laurent makes sure to look at the gun with clear distaste before turning dismissively back to Damen and grabbing his hands, pulling them down from his head and meeting Damen’s curious eyes.

“This man is my friend, I’ll not have him shot simply because you soldiers are trigger happy bastards.”

The soldier looks shocked for a second before he lets loose a surprised laugh but he puts the gun back in it’s holster all the same and takes a step away from the both of them.

“This close to the front lines one can never be too careful, doctor.” He says, an unapologetic grin on his face and Laurent rolls his eyes while he and Damen stand. The other two soldiers take a few steps back, their hands resting on the butt’s of their guns while they warily keep their eyes on the Prince.

 _“Friends,”_ Damen murmurs in Akielon, _“Is that what we are?_ ”

Laurent gives him a helpless sort of look. “Damen.”

“That’s enough of that--” The Veretian soldier interjects, shoving between the two of them and pointing his finger in both of their faces. Laurent leans away but Damen looks like he’s two seconds away from biting that finger clean off the man’s hand.

“Pardon me?” Laurent asks, his voice acidic, and the soldier turns away from Damen to focus on him. It works to distract the other soldiers but it doesn’t work to make Damen look any less murderous.

“We’ve got places to be, Doctor. And we haven’t got all day. My captain will want to speak with you to make sure you’re telling the truth about your situation. It’s not often we see Veretians being… friends… with Akielons. Especially now.”

“Well I’m terribly sorry,” he’s really not and the soldier can tell, “but we’ve actually got to get back to our camp, I’ve got some supplies here that the head physician will be wanting before supper---” Laurent tries but the soldier shrugs, wrapping an arm around Laurent’s shoulders and trying to steer him away. Laurent starts to plant his heels and stop but he notices the other two soldiers starting to pull their guns out. When he turns around as much as he’s able it’s to see Damen has taken a few steps toward Laurent and the bluecoat - his face thunderous. Laurent blinks.

“Truly it won’t take long, Doctor. Especially if you’re telling the truth. We’ve got our horses just around the bend. We’ll give you a lift to our camp, you speak to my Captain, and we bring you back here if everything checks out. No harm, no foul.”

Laurent can’t think of any conceivable way out of the situation they’re currently in. He can’t reveal that he is actually captured because then they’ll kill Damen, which would be bad for obvious reasons. They can’t try and fight them off, because the Veretian soldiers all have guns and Laurent doesn’t think Damen’s got any weapon on him and apparently this soldier won’t take no for an answer. The easiest thing would be to keep the attention on himself and off of Damen, and to speak with this Bluecoat captain. He lets himself be frogmarched by the soldier through a thicket of bare trees and truly, just like he’d said, there are three horses just around the corner.

The soldiers argue amongst themselves for a moment over who’s riding where. The leader offers Laurent ride pillion with him and Laurent staunchly refuses, saying he’d rather walk. In the end Laurent manages to convince the soldiers that he and Damen should share one of the horses, while two of the soldiers share the other and the leader rides alone.

The ride to their camp is slow going with four people sharing two horses, especially when the horses are a smaller and lighter breed meant more for speed than for holding great weight. But it takes them only a few hours through the patchy snow and bare trees to come upon a clearing. Well, it’s more like a large empty field that’s full of tents and people running around completing various tasks. When they reach the edge of the camp they all dismount and continue on on foot, some soldiers coming to take the horses while they walk into the camp.

The further they walk the more Laurent starts to recognize, though it takes him a second to place why everything here seems so familiar despite the winter air. What were once ruins are now tall stone towers, sentries are clearly visible in the tops of each keeping watch over the camp, and over a thicket of trees on the far side of camp Laurent can make out the top of a stone fort. He doesn’t even notice all the attention he and Damen are getting as they walk through the encampment because his heart is racing.

They’re at---

“Marlas.” Damen says quietly from behind him.

 

***

 

They sit in a tent in silence for a long stretch of time. Laurent has unpacked and packed his medical satchel at least three times and Damen has paced the beginnings of a trail into the dirt. He’s too tall to walk about the tent as freely as Laurent can and it’s mildly amusing watching him hunch beneath the dips in the tent fabric.

The tent is lavish, at least compared to those Laurent had seen and been in in the Akielon camp. Over there it had only been the essentials, a bed, a trunk or bags to store personal belongings and clothing, sometimes there was a table or a desk - in Nikandros’ case he had a small table in his tent, Laurent didn’t know if Damen had a desk in his. But here the tent’s are made of strong and sturdy fabric that showed as white on the outside but inside it was an array of shiny silks and colorful cottons. There isn’t a bed in this tent, but there is a table with many chairs arranged around it. They’re all made of heavy, dark stained wood. There isn’t a fire inside the tent, but there are piles of blankets and cloaks sitting on some of the empty chairs and there are tall stands where torches are likely to go when it gets too dark to see who you were speaking to each night.

Laurent pulls his cloak tighter around himself just as Damen finishes his routine pacing and sits down in the seat beside him. They’ve chosen to sit the farthest from the entrance to the tent, though it wasn’t Laurent’s choice but Damen’s. The soldier who’d brought them had shown them to the tent and quickly disappeared but the other two soldiers are standing guard just outside the entrance and Laurent can hear them pondering in Veretian. Abruptly the men outside go silent and there’s a shuffling sound before the tent flap opens.

Damen is already on his feet before anyone steps foot inside and Laurent holds an arm out to stay him. Surprisingly, he listens but he doesn’t sit back down, instead standing beside Laurent and shielding his right side. Laurent leans around him to be able to see the newcomer and the first thing he recognizes is the uniform; it’s a bright and garish red. A Redcoat.

The man is pulling dark leather gloves off his hands as he talks, throwing them haphazardly onto the polished tabletop. “Sorry to have kept you waiting, gentlemen, I’m afraid being in charge of a camp comes with just as many downsides as there are upsides.” He slowly pulls his bright red coat off and shakes it a few times as he continues. He’s got long dark hair tied back with a leather tie at the nape of his neck, unlike all the bluecoats Laurent has seen who’ve had short shorn hair with slightly longer hair on top. He’s got no stubble to speak of, though a five o’clock shadow is imminently on the horizon but he’s got a roguish charm despite the austere-ness of his uniform. He doesn’t look to Damen or Laurent once while he moves about making himself comfortable. “I was busy with another matter when Orlant came to inform me of your visit--”

“I wouldn’t call it a visit.” Laurent interrupts and the man finally looks up as he throws his coat over the back if one of the chairs. He freezes when his eyes are naturally draw from Laurent's smaller sitting figure and up to Damen’s larger standing one. His mouth falls open for a moment before it splits into a wide grin.

“Holy shit.” Laurent shares a bewildered glance with Damen at the sudden change in tone, but the redcoat is staring at them with astonished amusement. “I didn’t want to believe Orlant when he said they’d found the biggest Akielon alive but you’re the size of a bloody mountain, aren’t you?”

Laurent let’s out an astonished laugh before quickly moving to cover his mouth with one of his hands. Damen gives Laurent a flat look in retaliation which just makes Laurent want to laugh even more. The situation is just… so ridiculous that Laurent doesn’t even know what to say.

“Nevermind that,” The soldier waves his hand as if waving the thoughts away and turns his attention on Laurent who has to work for a second to hide the amusement on his face and become serious again. “Orlant said he’d seen the two of you out near the Akielon camp. That’s odd.”

Laurent’s brows rise and his face twists into a less than impressed expression. “What about an Akielon near the Akielon camp is odd to you, soldier?”

The Redcoat gives him an equally unimpressed look in return. “You, sir, are what’s odd about that. An Akielon spotted near the Akielon camp, alright, but an Akielon with a Veretian? That’s not the standard thing to see in situations such as this.”

“I think it’s a rather standard thing to see. He’s my guard, he’s there to defend me should anyone try to attack.”

“You think a Veretian soldier would attack a Veretian citizen, sir?” The soldier looks dubious and Laurent gives him a flat look.

“It’s happened before. One of your men,” he motions to the red coat draped over the chair at the far side of the table. “Attacked me during a gunfight. He thought me to be a pet and wouldn’t take no for an answer. He tried to rape me, I kicked his balls in and when he went down I kicked him in the face hard enough to break his nose and knock him out. Now I have an Akielon guard.” Laurent swept his hand to gesture at Damen and the man in front of him frowns for a moment, looking down at the table. Damen gives him a short look at the ‘guard’ title and Laurent gives him a shrug and a frown back.

“A Redcoat attacked you?” Laurent nods his head once and the man frowns, bringing a hand up to his face and rubbing at his chin. “I don’t remember hearing of any such attack, though none of the men would likely want to own up to being put down by someone they thought was a pet. And broken noses are a rather common occurrence when tensions are as high as this.” He looks to be in thought for a moment but Laurent decides to break it.

“I’ve heard that word used a few times now, I’m not sure what exactly it means.” He starts and the redcoat looks up at him, his brows raised.

‘Which word, sir?”

“Pet.” The redcoat blinks.

“Every Veretian knows what a pet is.” Laurent raises a single eyebrow.

“Clearly this one doesn’t, I’m not from around the larger cities. Enlighten me, soldier.”

“First I want you to tell me more about this redcoat. Forgive me, if the topic is unseemly and you don’t wish to think on it more due to the nature of such an attack but I’m a Captain of these men, and if it was any one of the men directly under my command I’d wish to know.”

Laurent thinks on it a moment. “He was… Large, bigger than you and closer to my guard’s size. He was stocky, and rather thick around. His hair was short and black and his nose had already been broken before I broke it. There were two large lumps on it. Three now, I’d suspect, unless I’d manage to re-break a previous break.”

“Was he an ugly fucker?” The redcoat asks and Laurent’s head tilts to the side.

“I was a little too busy trying to get away from him to focus on such things, but sure. He definitely wasn’t very handsome.” The redcoat shakes his head, his face dark. He starts speaking Veretian after a side glance to Damen, not knowing Damen can speak Veretian as if he’d been born doing it.

_“That sounds like Govart. Nasty son of a bitch, works directly under the Regent so he’s pretty much untouchable.”_

The Regent? In 1746 there was only the king, Tyrell, and his two sons. Laurent can’t remember what their names are at the moment. There wasn’t any talk of Regents from this period in any of his history classes. Laurent asks his questions in Veretian.

 _“The Regent? I thought King Tyrell was still alive and leading Vere?”_ The expression on the redcoat’s face drops into a somber one as he shakes his head.

_“King Tyrell, Gods rest his soul, he died months ago. Before the Akielons had even started pushing into Vere.”_

Laurent confusion is only mounting.

“I don’t understand.”

The redcoat looks to the tent entrance before walking around the table and sitting a few chairs down from Damen and Laurent, he leans forward with his elbows on the table.

_“King Tyrell, he was fine. He was ready to fight against the Akielon King to keep the land that Vere won, but suddenly he fell ill and died in the night. None of the physicians could find anything wrong with him, but many of us - those who’d been loyal to Tyrell - suspect it was poison. The King’s brother took over and is holding the crown until Prince Auguste can be properly crowned, but the lad is pretty much King in all but name.”_

Auguste. That’s right. That’s where father had gotten the idea for Auguste’s name, it was one from in their family history. King Auguste ruled after King Tyrell in the direct aftermath of the Veretian and Akielon alliance. But King Tyrell had stepped down so that his son could lead, he hadn’t died.

Neither of them gets a chance to say anything more, though, because a harried looking bluecoat flies through the tent flap and fixes a wild look at the redcoat. He has blood coating his hands and it’s staining the sleeves of his blue coat a dark brown.

“Captain! It’s Rochert he--his gun backfired during training, exploded, and he’s bleeding really bad! I’ve sent for the surgeon but you need to come quick, we can’t get him to calm down!”

The Captain stands abruptly from his seat, not bothering to put back on the coat, and giving Laurent and Damen an apologetic look.

“I’ve got to go, please stay here I’ll be---”

“Take me with you.” Laurent interrupts, finally standing and the Captain gives him a confused look.

“Pardon?”

“I”m a physician. I don’t know how far your surgeon is from camp, I can help.”

“Sir, really that’s not--” Laurent turns away from the Captain and towards the bluecoat, stepping away from the table and around the chairs while hurrying to the entrance.

“Take me to him.” He orders the bluecoat and he can feel Damen’s presence at his back, having followed him across the tent at the first sign of Laurent’s movement. The bluecoat rushes from the tent to the protest of the Captain and Laurent follows quickly after. It’s not a far distance from the tent Laurent and Damen were in before, but this one is clearly an infirmary. It’s less lavish than the other tents in that it contains only exactly what is needed with no extra embellishments.

There are a few beds taken up, but only one has a crowd of uniformed men around it and Laurent pushes past the bluecoat messenger and through the crowd to the man, Rochert, on the bed.  It’s immediately apparent that the wound is detrimental. He’s bleeding sluggishly but profusely, which speaks of an already great loss of blood, and he’s thrashing about on the bed.

 _“Hello soldier, it’s Rochert right?”_ Laurent calls the attention of Rochert towards him, his hands grabbing at Rochert’s bleeding arm and holding it still. Rochert stops thrashing and looks towards him with eyes wide with shock. At first it looks as though he isn’t seeing Laurent but Laurent watches his eyes focus after a moment and the pained groaning stops for a second.

_“I’ve died haven’t I?”_

Laurent gives him a concerned look. _“No you haven’t died, soldier. You were in a firing accident. Your gun misfired.”_ He turns around and looks to the men surrounding him. “I need a belt to stop the bleeding and I need a bowl of water. I can’t do anything if I can’t see.” The men are staring down at him in shock and no one moves. “Unless you’d rather he died right here and now. That’s really up to you.” He snaps and all of them are shocked into motion. He turns back to Rochert, still holding his arm.

 _“No. No I’m pretty sure I’ve died.”_ Laurent looks down to inspect the arm wound as much as he can while it’s covered in blood, there are large chunks of skin and muscle hanging freely, and when Laurent moves them back into place he can see that lots of them are burnt and there are even some places where the skin is missing completely.

 _“And why do you think you’ve died, Rochert?”_ Laurent asks calmly, frowning down at the gore. A hand comes up beside him and when he chances a look it’s to see Damen holding out a large bowl of water. He gives Damen a thankful nod, motioning for him to pour it slowly over the exposed arm. Damen does and Laurent can see a cleared picture for a moment before the blood flows through the water and covers everything in red again.

 _“Because you only see angels when you die.”_ Laurent blinks, looking up and meeting Rochert’s eyes.

 _“I.. I’m not an angel, soldier. I’m a doctor.”_ Rochert’s eyes switch between coming in and out of focus and his head nods about tiredly before it falls back and his eyes fall shut, his chest is heaving with heavy breaths.  

 _“Y’look like an angel to me.”_ He slurs and Laurent hears someone behind him cough out a shocked laugh. Someone else hands him a belt and Laurent buckles it as tightly as it’ll go around Rochert’s bicep. The damage had been mostly contained to his forearm, so he’d likely been holding the gun completely away from himself and out in an extended position. The bleeding slows down considerably and Laurent frowns down at the arm. It’s too damaged. Even if Laurent stitched closed the leaking artery or vein, there’s still the skin to deal with and Rochert is missing many pieces, with others a charred and dark mess that will only make the wound worse.

“His arm has to go.” He says and the Captain comes around and faces him from the head of Rochert’s bed.

“What.”

Laurent shakes his head. “It’s too damaged, there’s no way to heal this. If we cut if off at the elbow I can cauterize it and get rid of all the damaged flesh. He’d live. If I tried to fix this he’d be likely to die of infection or fever, if he didn’t pop the stitches open and bleed out instead. It’s the only way.”

Him and the captain have a small stare down but eventually the captain looks down at the soldier seems to steel himself. He looks back up to Laurent and nods.

“Alright. What do we do.”

Laurent thinks for a moment.

“I’m going to need bandages and alcohol, the strongest you’ve got. I’ll need something flat, like a sword, heated till it’s red hot. We’re going to need to bring him somewhere more sturdy than a fabric cot and I’m going to need something with an extremely sharp blade.”

 

***

 

Laurent exits the tent he and Damen had been originally taken to, leaving behind a bandaged Rochert and his friends. He’s breathing heavily, and he’s got a spare cloth that he’s wiping as much blood off his arms as he can.

They’d moved Rochert from the infirmary to the tent with the large sturdy table and Laurent had had Damen hold down the rest of Rochert’s arm while he had the other men hold down the rest of his body. He’d given the soldier some poppy seed tonic he’d had in his medical bag and when the soldier had become too tired to fight as vehemently Laurent had begun using a sword to slowly saw just below the elbow.

It had taken a while, and when he’d reached the bone he had to angle the sword to cut through the tendons and ligaments at the elbow joint while still leaving the skin to be used to help stitch closed the amputation spot. The cauterizing of the wound had been the worst part, even through the poppy Rochert had struggled and screamed the moment Laurent had the Captain, who he now knew was called Lazar, hold the red hot sword to the meat of his arm while Laurent held the skin out of the way.

The stitching to close the wound had been easy, as had been the bandaging, and Laurent watches as the men carry their soldier out of the tent and across the way back into the infirmary. Someone in light brown clothes with a folded white hat rushed past and into the infirmary tent. That must be the surgeon.

“Laurent.”

Laurent turns around to see Damen beckoning him back into the tent. He reluctantly goes and the scent of cooking flesh fills his nostrils once again. He frowns but Damen grabs his bloody wrist and drags him deeper. Someone had brought a large bucket of water into the tent when they’d brought Rochert over and Damen takes both of Laurent’s hands in his own and gently brings them to the water, dipping them into it. Laurent doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to silently watch as Damen slowly wipes the drying blood from his hands before taking the bucket and dumping it outside. The water is pink.

“Come sit down.” Damen tries and Laurent finally comes back to himself, blinking and looking up at Damen who’s watching him carefully.

 _“I’m alright Damen.”_ He says in Akielon and Damen’s expression doesn’t change.

 _“That may be so, but it was still a rather stressful thing to do and I’d feel better if you took a moment to sit down. A lot has happened today.”_ Laurent gives him a dry look but obeys, sitting down slowly in the seat he’d sat in before. He doesn’t mention how the adrenaline crash he was currently experiencing was making his legs feel weak and shaky.

The table is no longer pristine before them. Blood drips off the side and onto the dirt in random drops. Two swords are laying across the table, one covered in blood and the other covered in ash. Damen grabs them both, using the cloth Laurent had tried to clean his hands with to wipe them down as much as he’s able before putting them on the table before Laurent.

“You too.” Laurent says, dragging his eyes away from the black and silver metal and looking up at Damen. Damen looks down at him with questioning eyes and Laurent holds a hand palm up expectantly. “If I have to sit, you should as well. If only to make me feel better.” He adds and Damen gives a small laugh, the tension erasing itself from his shoulders and a soft grin appearing on his face.

He pulls a chair out from the table and carries it easily over before putting it down so it’s facing Laurent’s chair. He reaches out and slowly takes Laurent’s outstretched hand in both of his.

He doesn’t mention the trembling of Laurent’s hand.

They sit quietly, Damen’s thumbs rubbing soothingly over the thin skin of the back of Laurent’s hand. The blood has dried to the table by the time Lazar comes back into the tent, speaking before he’s even all the way inside.

“Sorry for the wait. The surgeon was furious we hadn’t waited for him until we undid the bandages and showed him your work. He’s never seen anyone do an amputation so cleanly. You mentioned Govart, before, I wanted to bring in people who’d dealt with him more often than I have.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve had to amputate, I’ve got a decent amount of practice. And that’s really not necessary. All we want to do is get back to camp. Your man Orlant said we couldn’t do that till you’d discerned that I wasn’t being kept against my will by the Akielon side---” Laurent finally looks away from Damen and his joined hands and up to Lazar and immediately he freezes.

Lazar hasn’t come alone. Standing beside him are two men, one of whom Laurent doesn’t recognize and the other one. The other one has hair like straw in sunlight, long and tied back with a leather tie. The other one stands tall and has a strong, defined jaw with bright blue eyes. Blue eyes the same shade as Laurent’s. The other one is _Auguste_ which is…

“ _Impossible_.” Auguste whispers and then there’s a flurry of activity. The man beside Auguste pulls his sword from its sheath and Damen leaps into action. Grabbing the larger of the two swords off the table and standing in such a hurry that it knocks his chair over with a loud crash. Laurent stands in shock but Damen steps in front of him, his sword outstretched towards the other man with the sword.

“Put your sword down.” Damen all but snarls and the man glares at him, affronted.

“I don’t listen to Akielons. I’m Captain of the King’s Guard and I’m ordering you to put your sword down, soldier.” The man snarls back and Laurent can’t keep his eyes off Auguste.

He’s here. He’s really here. But how? He’d---

“What the bloody hell are you playing at Lazar?” Auguste turns on the redcoat Captain and Lazar puts his hands up in surrender.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Orlant and Huet picked these two up just outside the Akielon camp, this man’s a doctor he just saved Rochert’s life. Why does Jord have his fucking sword out?” Lazar answers back, just as confused as Auguste and Jord seem to be.

“Really? Because he,” Auguste points viciously down the tent towards Laurent, “is dead. Or he’s supposed to be. Jord and I saw to it ourselves.” Laurent’s eyes widen in shock and Damen tries to stand even more in front of him like a human shield. Lazar still looks confused.

“I’m not… Why would you specifically try to have a Veretian doctor killed?”

“I didn’t!” Auguste shouts, still pointing Laurent’s way. “That’s not a Veretian doctor, that’s my brother! The second Prince of Vere! And he’s supposed to be dead!”

“I cut his head off myself.” Jord says darkly, staring Damen down and Laurent, startled, finally speaks up.

“ _Excuse me_? Who the hell are you?”

Everyone in the tent goes silent and Lazar gives him an incredulous look.

“How do you--- This is your future King, the Crown Prince Auguste of Vere.” He says slowly and Damen takes a step forward, the sword still held tightly in his grip.

“That makes two future kings in this tent, put your fucking sword down soldier.” He directs at Jord and Auguste holds his hand out towards his Captain, looking at Damen with furrowed brows.

“What?”

Damen doesn’t back down from his defensive stance.

“I am Damianos, the Crown Prince of Akielos and the son of Theomedes, the rightful heir to the Akielon throne and it is treason to pull your blade on a member of the royal family. You’d be killed for even thinking of doing it. I’m the best sword fighter in all of Akielos, I’ve never been defeated in combat and if you try to kill the man behind me you’ll pay for it with your life before you get halfway across this tent.”

It only goes downhill from there. Jord doesn’t put his sword away and Damen doesn’t budge from where he looms threateningly as if he’s one second away from jumping onto the table and skewering the bluecoat Captain through with his borrowed sword.

“What witchcraft is this?” Auguste finally mutters, glaring between Damen and Laurent, “That my dead brother is back from the grave and in league with Akielos against us.”

“I’m not your brother!” Laurent finally almost shouts.

“You look exactly like Prince Charls.” Jord accuses and Laurent flings his arms open in frustration before pointing towards Auguste as Auguste had pointed at him.

“And he looks exactly like my brother who died mere months ago, but you don’t see me accusing him of coming back from the dead to betray _me_!”

This brings them both up short and even Damen turns to look down at him.

“The brother your uncle killed? Wasn’t his name Auguste?” Damen looks back across the table at the Prince/King of Vere and Auguste’s face twists in confusion. Lazar is watching from the side as if the scene before him is a particularly engrossing television drama. Not that he’d know what that was, if Laurent tried to explain.

Laurent sighs and let’s his hands fall to his sides.

“Yes it’s… A rather long story.” Laurent comes to a decision, one he’s not sure is the best one but it’s the only thing he can think of to do. “If you all put your swords down, and we sit down like civilized people then I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.” He starts only to be interrupted by another bluecoat coming into the tent in a frenzy. This time it’s Orlant and he’s panting as if he’s just run the entire length of the camp.

“A rider.” He gets out, bending at the waist and putting his hands on his knees.

“Spit it out, man!” Lazar says and Orlant stands back up, gulping in breaths.

“A single rider with a white flag. An Akielon rider.” He manages, pointing back out the way he came and the current dilemma seems to be dismissed as they all quickly file out of the tent. Laurent’s jaw drops open in surprise when what he sees finally registers in his brain.

It it a single horse with a white flag clearly visible, but the rider. The rider is Nikandros. And he’s leading a familiar large black horse behind him.

They wait while Nikandros dismounts to join their group and Auguste and Jord motion for Damen and Nikandros to enter the tent before them. Laurent enters before any of them, grabbing the discarded swords and tossing them on the ground in the corner. He makes Nikandros and Damen sit, both of whom seem to be arguing over Nikandros’ ‘rescue’ attempt. When Auguste and Jord enter it’s without Lazar, who Laurent can hear complaining outside the tent before silence descends. It’s Nikandros who breaks it.

“I’m here to speak about the release of the Crown Prince of Akielos from your encampment.” He starts and Auguste waves his hand as if banishing the words.

“He’s not leaving until I’ve gotten to the bottom of this whole situation.” He states, looking at Laurent down the length of the bloody table before he slowly sits down, Jord follows behind him after a nonverbal signal from Auguste.

Laurent looks around at the men sitting at the table with him, his stomach heavy. His eyes land on Damen last and he bites at his lip.

What will Damen think? Will he think Laurent’s lying? Will he think he’s insane? That he’s a witch? Or a product of one, like Auguste currently does?

He takes a fortifying breath and looks down at his own hands. He distantly notes that there’s still blood under his fingernails that Damen hadn’t managed to wash away. He looks back up and his back straightens.

“I suppose that I’ll start at the beginning.” He says sharing one last look with Damen, who looks mildly curious but otherwise unbothered. He looks away and focuses on the dried blood of the table as he dives into his tale. The real one. The true one. And he doesn’t look back.


	6. we'll be there soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m his Right Hand and his closest advisor. Legally he has to tell me everything.” Nikandros says before Damen can speak and Damen gives Nikandros a disbelieving look. 
> 
> “I do not.” 
> 
> “You should. I should have your father make it an official rule.” 
> 
> “And when I’m King I’ll abolish the rule. I tell you things because I want to tell you and I think you should know.” Nik gives Damen a flat look, casting a quick glance at Laurent before pointedly look back at Damen. 
> 
> “I would literally pay you to not tell me so many of the things you think I should know, Damen.” Damen looks affronted. 
> 
> “You just said that I should legally tell you everything.” He argues and Nikandros opens his mouth to retort back but Auguste beats him to it. 
> 
> “Enough!” Damen and Nikandros both turn to look at Auguste who’s now staring down the table with exasperation. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay relatively sane, surrounded by these men.” He says to Laurent in Veretian and Laurent grins as Nikandros and Damen both snort. He can practically hear Nikandros roll his eyes.

It’s well into the night by the time Laurent finishes speaking and his throat is dry and sore. He’s certain he’s never spoken so much, or for so long, in his entire life. Not even in front of Auguste--His brother Auguste, not the King - Prince? - sitting before him. Someone had come in at what must have been supper time and left trays of food in the middle of the table. Torches had been brought in and lit when it became dark and they’d even recently been replaced with fresh ones that are still burning brightly and covering everything in the tent with a warm glow.

Laurent waits for accusations to come flying against him and his tale. He waits for anyone to call him a liar or a witch or… anything, really. But the four men in the tent with him sit silently around the table, speechless. Laurent takes a small breath before leaning forward to grab at thr water pitcher that was brought in with the food. His hand is intercepted and the heat of Damen’s arm burns a path alongside his as he grabs the pitcher and pours Laurent a goblet of water. He leans back in his seat and hands Laurent the goblet. When Laurent takes it he chances a glance up at Damen’s face.

Damen is looking at him with an indecipherable expression and Laurent watches his mouth open and close a few times before he finally says anything. “I’m sorry.”

Laurent blinks. That… Wasn’t what he’s been expecting.

“Pardon?” Damen breaks their eye contact and Laurent watches as he rests his hands on the table, clasping them together and then unclasping them only to repeat the actions again.

“I-- You were trying to get home. Trying to get back to your own time and I--I kept you here.”

Laurent frowns.

“Damen--” Damen shakes his head, pulling his hands off the table and out of view into his lap. He turns his whole body to face Laurent, perching on the edge of his seat so he can do so without contorting his body.

“You told me that your Uncle killed your brother and your father. He wants to kill you as well. You had plans in place to thwart the riches and land he thought he’d gain by being the only survivor in the family but that-- that was months ago. I was the one who convinced Meniados to let you bring me south. I was the one who grabbed your ribbons from the trees and took them all down. I--”

“Damen.” Lauren shoves his chair back enough that he can stand and he takes the few small steps between them with purpose. He reaches down to grab Damen’s face in between both his hands and forces him to look up. He shakes his head when he meets Damen’s eyes. “I don’t blame you. You took the ribbons down, sure. But you said so yourself that Meniados’ men ran training exercises through those forests and it would not have gone over well for anyone else to see evidence of me trying to escape. Nikandros was the one who convinced Meniados to let me go south with you, and I was glad for it. Being stuck in Abydos was far worse than being on the road - I knew that I was less of a prisoner then than when I was with Meniados.”

“But you were still a prisoner.” Damen points out and Laurent sighs. He’s got… Nothing to say against that. He never dreamed he’d be having this conversation, ever.

A thought pops into his head and he finds himself smiling wryly. “I’m sure your Captain wouldn’t have had it any other way. I’m still a Veretian in Akielos, _now_ of all times.”

“You weren’t in Akielos when I found you, though.” Nikandros says and Laurent startles, straightening from where he’d been unconsciously leaning in towards Damen. He’d honestly forgotten there was anyone else in the tent for a moment there. A few moments. He let’s go of Damen’s face, his own going uncontrollably red, and turns to give Nikandros an unimpressed but still amused look.

“No. No I wasn’t.”

“I honestly want to hear more about how five of Akielos’ highly trained soldiers, and their prince, were able to get so far north into Delfeur but I’m honestly more concerned about the validity of everything you’ve said tonight.” Auguste interrupts from behind Laurent, Laurent’s back had been to the table and subsequently to Jord and Auguste as he’d been talking to Nikandros and Damen. He pivots back around. Jord is looking contemplative but Auguste looks incredibly dubious.

“The validity.” Laurent says blankly and Auguste tilts his head from left to right to left again with a sigh.

“Say that what you’ve told us is true. You travelled through time because you touched a set of stones. How come I’ve never heard of it happening before? Even in fair tales. If the stones are in Vere right now, and they have been for years then why has no one else travelled through them?”

“It has happened before.” Damen adds and when Laurent chances a glance at him its to see him glaring across the table at the Veretian Prince-King. “Just because your people haven’t cared enough to learn the history of a province they claim is theirs, doesn’t mean that that history doesn’t exist. Delpha was originally ours. It’s always been hours, since the split of the Artesian Empire. We know it’s history; all it’s stories. There are many of people travelling through the stones.” Damen’s expression lights up and he looks up at Laurent as if he’s just discovered something new. “ _That’s_ why you were so enraptured by the performers. It wasn’t the music, it was the song. One of them played the Song of the Stones.”

Laurent’s lips twitch but he holds himself back from outright smirking at Damen. “I wanted to know if it was possible to go back.” Laurent drops gracelessly back into his seat and reaches forward to fiddle with his discarded cup. He takes a sip of the room temperature water with a slight grimace.

“If that’s even what’s happened.” Auguste adds from across the table and Laurent watches Damen’s expression dim and his jaw clench. Laurent swivels his eyes from Damen and back to Auguste, making sure their eyes meet. He holds Auguste’s gaze and doesn’t back down. All the information he’d forgotten about King Auguste comes rushing back to him.

“You are Auguste of Vere, third King of your name. Your were born in Kempt while your mother, Queen Hennike, was visiting her family for an extended summer period. You have one son, born, “ Laurent mentally calculates for a second, “two months ago to a Vaskian woman whom you’ve married but not publicly announced as your wife.”

When Auguste’s eyes widen at the mention of his son Laurent has to hide his relief. Something in the timeline had changed from the history Laurent knows and what’s happening now. King Tyrell was supposed to still be alive, but it looks like Auguste’s life is mostly in line with what Laurent knows form his history classes. He decides to keep going. “You haven’t announced the birth of your heir either, going by the fact that you’ve had your brother killed. I’m guessing it’s because he wasn’t happy with the new heir, or he didn’t know.” Auguste straightens in his seat and his expression gets more incredulous as Laurent goes on. Jord’s eyes are wide and Laurent doesn’t chance a glance as Nikandros or Damen.

“You’re currently standing with Vask is stable, but it’s slowly turning more tumultuous because you haven’t announced your engagement or marriage yet. Vask sees this as a slight against them, considering your wife is Vaskian. Your country has no alliance with Patras and it won’t because after this war with Akielos you go to war with Patras. I know who wins this war and I know who wins the war against Patras. How can I know any of these things if they aren’t currently public knowledge or they haven’t happened yet unless I am from where I say I’m from?”

Laurent takes another calm sip of his water. The air in the tent is stifling under the combined body heat of five grown men and six large torches. The silence is nearly oppressive, but it doesn’t last long.

“You. You know how this war ends?” Damen haltingly asks and Laurent’s eyes focus on the table before him. He bites the inside of his cheek while he looks at the dried blood still staining the wood, half hidden beneath the trays of untouched food.

“I do. I don’t know exacts. But I know most of what happens.”

Damen’s voice is quiet and full fo realization when he next speaks.

“That’s how… That’s how you knew about kastor. And how you figured out who I was so easily. Nikandros through it was because I wasn’t trying very hard with my deception at the time--”

“That’s because you weren’t, Damen.” Nikandros sighs and Laurent wants to laugh as he thinks about the horrible wig and musty cap Damen’s had to wear for the past few months.

“You told him I knew who you were?” Laurent finds himself asking and Damen shrugs, unrepentant.

“I’m his Right Hand and his closest advisor. Legally he has to tell me everything.” Nikandros says before Damen can speak and Damen gives Nikandros a disbelieving look.

“I do not.”

“You should. I should have your father make it an official rule.”

“And when I’m King I’ll abolish the rule. I tell you things because I want to tell you and I think you should know.” Nik gives Damen a flat look, casting a quick glance at Laurent before pointedly look back at Damen.

“I would literally pay you to not tell me so many of the things you think I should know, Damen.” Damen looks affronted.

“You _just_ said that I should legally tell you _everything_.” He argues and Nikandros opens his mouth to retort back but Auguste beats him to it.

“Enough!” Damen and Nikandros both turn to look at Auguste who’s now staring down the table with exasperation. _“I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay relatively sane, surrounded by these men.”_ He says to Laurent in Veretian and Laurent grins as Nikandros and Damen both snort. He can practically hear Nikandros roll his eyes. _“But I believe you._ ”

“You---”

“Not even my brother knew where I was born. And he definitely didn’t know about Kashel or my son. That’s,” Auguste pauses, “not information many are privy to.” Auguste slowly stands and begins to walk around the table towards them, Laurent holds his hand out to stop Damen from standing up and starting anything. Damen listens, barely, but looks to be entirely on edge and ready for the moment Auguste tries to attack Laurent. Except Auguste doesn’t do that. Instead he leans on the table between two chairs, close enough that he can slowly reach out and grab the goblet from Laurent’s hands. He puts it down and then puts his hand on top of Laurent’s.

He looks entirely sincere as he says, “I’m sorry that you lost both your father and your brother in such a way. Being betrayed by family is,” he pauses, “worse, I think, than even being attacked by an enemy. You know that your enemy is out to get you, but family-- Family is supposed to be there for you.”

Laurent holds Auguste’s gaze and tries not to cry at the direct attention. This close, with such a soft look on his face, it’s hard not to think that this is _his_ Auguste. His older brother. His protector. His hands even feel the same on top of Laurent’s. He swallows around the thickness in his throat and gives a single nod. Auguste slowly removes his hand and stands back up, motioning for Jord to come join him as he sits in the chairs just around the corner that Damen and Laurent are sitting at. He does, looking between Auguste and Laurent calculatingly but still sitting down beside his Prince all the same.

Auguste reaches out to the tray and pulls a bread roll off but doesn’t eat it, instead picking at it with his hands and looking down at it as he speaks. “When Charls was born I was ecstatic. I was seven years old and my mother and father had been trying for years for a second child and finally there he was. When he was younger I spent hours with him everyday. I’d sneak out of lessons and away from teachers to go and read him stories or play hide and find all over the palace. I loved him, more than anything. But when I was fifteen father wanted me to tour Vere and get to meet my people, and it took me a year and a half to do so and when I came back Charls… Charls had changed.”

Auguste takes a moment to clearly pull himself together and push through, Jord reaches out to grab the destroyed bread roll and instead deposit an empty cup into Auguste’s hands. Auguste twirls the cup around and brushes his fingers along the intricate designs of filigree that have been smithed onto the sides.

“I didn’t know it then but my Uncle, he-- He had a particular thing for young men. Boys.” Laurent feels his stomach drop and his face go blank. “I think I was spared because I was the first son, father or mother were always with me. But mother died with Charls birth and Charls always looked more like mother than I did and I think that hurt my father in small ways everyday so he avoided him when he could. I was the only one close to Charls and when I was gone there was no one to protect him or to even see what was going on.”

“For years my uncle dug his poisonous claws deep into my little brother and I didn’t know. I was old enough that father had me doing more and more duties and so I had less and less time to sneak away to see Charls and when I did he never wanted to see me. He drew away from me, and I watched as he openly started to resent me and hate me. He’d publicly snub me and then act contrite in front of father only to do it again and again. Even when he became too old for my Uncle’s preferences he was still completely under my Uncle’s thrall. I felt useless. Jord was the one who discovered what Charls and my Uncle were planning.” Laurent tries not to give anything away, seeming intent on the story. He hardly knows half the people in this tent, and the other two he’s not entirely keen on knowing how close to home this is hitting.

“When my father died suddenly I knew that they were behind it. They wanted to have him killed on the battlefield, a stray arrow, and they probably had the same thought for me but we caught on too early and their plans had to change. They were executed last week, privately. Only Jord and my closest and most loyal guards know, the Council has no idea. My uncle had a man in charge of his army, Govart, who hasn’t been seen for months now. We aren’t sure if he’s still alive or not. But we know for sure he was a part of their scheming. We’ve kept their deaths a secret so that we might find out who supported Charls and my uncle. But so far we’ve had no luck.”

“It’s only been a week, my King. This is going to take some time to sort out.” Jord says quietly reaching for one of the other pitchers on the table. When he pours it into the cup Auguste is holding it comes out dark and Laurent strongly suspects that it’s wine. Especially when Auguste tips the entire goblet back and downs it all in one go.

“It’s curious, isn’t it.” Damen says slowly and all eyes turn to him. His eyes are unfocused and looking down and his brows are furrowed. His head is tilted to one side and when Laurent turns to Nikandros it’s to see him looking just as confused as he feels.

“What’s curious?” Laurent finally asks and Damen’s eyes snap up to his, the firelight of one of the nearby torches flickering against the dark brown of his eyes and turning them almost black.

“That there’s such political unrest and attempts to unseat the rightful kings of Vere from their throne at the same time as Kastor trying to achieve the same thing in Akielos.”

Laurents confused expression drops as everything clicks into place.

“... a Veretian influence…” Laurent mumbles to himself and Auguste leans forward.

“A what?”

He looks between Auguste and Damen.

“Historically speaking Kastor had help from a rather rich and influential Veretian noble. But there’s been no record of who. At least not one that anyone has found, but I didn’t learn a lot of Akielon history. Most of my lessons were of Vere unless the alliance came up or Akielos’ history merged with Vere’s for certain events. It’s entirely possible that Kastor was working with Charls and…” he looked questioningly at Auguste but Auguste shakes his head.

“I’d rather not say his name. It’s currently being stricken from all our history books so no one will remember him or his poisonous legacy.” Laurent gives him a blank look.

“That’s exactly the opposite of what future historians want you to be doing, I”ll have you know.” Auguste shrugs.

“I’m the King. And I don’t want anyone remembering the bastard.”

Laurent sighs but turns back to Damen. He’ll have to work on convincing Auguste not to strike things from history later, perhaps when they’re not all exhausted from an eventful day.

“The most I know is he had Veretian help. And that most of that help was with Veretian money, but there may have been other forms of assistance given, we’d just need to work out the clues before your brother realizes that you know what’s going on.”

“There’s an obvious solution to most of this, you realize.” Nikandros adds and Laurent turns to him, questioning. He motions to Auguste and Jord. “They need to find out who Charls was working with and we,” he motions between himself and Damen, “need to find out if Kastor was one of those men or if he had Veretian support from someone else.”

“And what’s your solution, Captain?” Jord asks bitingly. He glares up through his lashes for a moment at Nikandros before looking back down at the table dismissively.

“You no longer have Charls to play these parts. If you’d have even been able to convince him to switch sides anyways. But you do have someone who looks so remarkably like him that even you,” he points at Auguste, “couldn’t tell that he wasn’t your brother.”

Laurent thinks about the implications of that. If he’s to stay here and help Auguste and Damen then he’d be here for months, if not years. He wouldn’t be able to go home that entire time, and who knows how much havoc Byron has wreaked by now. But then again. Laurent’s been here in 1746 for close to five months now. If Byron has managed to break through Laurent and Auguste’s carefully crafted deals and paperwork then he’s had five months to do whatever he wishes and there’s no guarantee that if Laurent went back he could even fix it. Especially when his uncle will know what he was trying to do  and what he’s aware of and he’ll be all the more desperate to get rid of him.

It might… Be safer, to stay and help.

Laurent looks up at Auguste who’s whispering furtively with his Captain in Veretian. They’re arguing. He may not be _his_ Auguste but he’s still family. Laurent is a direct descendant of King Auguste’s line. If he helps to keep Auguste healthy and on the throne then that’s ensuring his family’s well-being, isn’t it? It’s not as though there’s any family waiting for Laurent back in his own time. Not any that he cares to call family, anyways. And he hasn’t got any friends who’ll be missing him. Paschal might, but Laurent thinks it’s probably for the best that he’s no longer around his mentor with Byron being as desperate as he is. He might hurt Paschal or threaten him specifically to get to Laurent. With Laurent being gone that keeps Paschal out of Byron’s attention. He’s got nothing really to lose. And by going back to his own time he’s got nothing really to gain. Everything is too uncertain. Except for right here, right now.

“I’ll do it.”

Silence cuts into the tent after his quiet declaration and Laurent feels the weight of four sets of eyes resting on him.

“No.” Laurent’s head snaps to Damen at the protest and it’s to see Damen frowning and shaking his head. “No I can’t ask that of you. We’ve already kept you here for months, it’s not fair to make you stay and clean up these messes. We’ll figure it out.”

“If he wants to stay---” Auguste starts but Damen abruptly stands and holds out his hand to Laurent. Laurent haltingly stands and puts his hand in Damen’s only for Damen to lead him around the table to the tent entrance. They don’t exit the tent but Damen stands in front of Laurent and blocks him from view of the others. Laurent tilts his head back to look quizzically up at him.

 _“It’s my choice, Damen.”_ He says quietly in Akielon and Damen huffs.

 _“Laurent, we’re at Marlas. The stones are just around the bend and you could go home. You could do what you were telling me you wanted to do back in Abydos. You wanted to keep your brother’s legacy alive and untarnished by your uncle, if you stay there’s no guarantee that you’ll be able to return to Marlas to go back.”_ Damen is leaning down, his voice quiet enough that only Laurent will hear it. Laurent looks to the tent entrance for a moment, unable to keep staring so intently at Damen without reacting.

 _“My brother is dead, Damen. But my family. My family comes from Auguste’s, he’s a distant ancestor of mine. I… I can’t help my Auguste, I was too late. But I can help this one. And I can help you, like I’ve done these last few months down in Akielos. Maybe I came through those stones for a reason. I. I want to help. And it’s my choice.”_ A single finger touches his chin and tilts it so that he’s facing Damen again. Damen is looking down at him, his expression serious but soft as he removes his finger only to slowly put his whole hand on Laurent’s cheek.

“ _Xenos_ \---”

Laurent tries to fight against leaning into the touch, but he succumbs just a bit to the temptation and his cheek leans into the heat of Damen’s palm.

 _“Come on, Damen. It’ll be another adventure. Perhaps you can wear the wig again.”_ He teases and tries not to smile as Damen’s expression turns to one of distaste.

“ _I hated that wig._ ”

“And yet I’m rather certain it was your idea to wear it.” Damen’s nose scrunches up but he sighs, dropping his hand back to his side.

“Fine. It’s your decision to make, and if you wish to stay then there’s nothing I can do to make you go.” Laurent grants a small smile to slip onto his face and he watches Damen’s eyes flicker down to look at it as his face goes back to it’s typical soft expression.

“Come, let’s discuss how this will work. You can think of it like a game, if you wish.” Laurent says and Damen shakes his head.

“It’s not a game to me.” Laurent gives him a fake pout.

“But it’s the game I like, soldier.” Damen rolls his eyes but straightens up and turns to face the others. He begins walking back to their seats and Laurent follows. Auguste and Jord look curious but Nikandros looks exasperated. Laurent gives him a jaunty two fingered salute behind Damen’s back and watches as Nikandros snorts and tries to hide his smile. They sit back down and Laurent leans his arms on the table, looking directly at Auguste determinedly.

“What do you propose?”

 

***

 

Daylight has been steadily growing brighter around the loose edges of the tent for at least an hour. The torches have all been burnt down to the quick with barely a flame to show. It’s silent in the tent but for some quiet muttering, as it’s been for hours now. Jord has fallen asleep with his arms crossed on the table and his head resting atop them like they’re a pillow. Nikandros has been blankly staring at a nondescript part of the dirt floor for at least half an hour now and he looks as if he’s seconds away from passing out.

Auguste and Damen are the only two speaking and they’ve been going ‘round in circles with no clear end in sight. It was decided that Laurent would receive a crash course in Prince-ly Behaviour, as well as a crash course into as much of Charls’ history as Auguste knows along with anything Auguste suspected of his brother. Any dissimilarities between Laurent and Charls they’re hoping to cover up with the excuse of the tensions of the war. Which is where Damen and Auguste are stuck.

Laurent has explained the general information of the war to the two princes with little to no elegance. Akielos wins, Delpha returns to Akielos. Vere retreats. A year later an alliance is brokered. Auguste and Damen have been trying to plan a new way to end the war without everything coming to it’s almost inevitable head, thus saving the lives of thousands on both sides. The common enemy of usurping family has bonded them, and Damen and he have been speaking rapid Veretian since Jord had fallen asleep.

Finally, Laurent has had enough.

He slams his hands on the table, startling Jord awake and Nikandros into consciousness. Silence reigns and Laurent tries to ignore the tingling in his hands from the impact.

“You’re getting nowhere with this. There’s only so many times I can hear either of you say ‘with minimal loss of life’ before I want to stab you both in the throat myself.”

“You took an oath.” Damen chides and Laurent’s brows rise as his lips twist down at the corners.

“Fuck my oath. This is killing me, I’d like to go to bed sometime soon, thanks.” Damen’s eyes flicker to the tent entrance and the small streams of light that leak in around the fabric, his expression goes faintly shocked as if he hadn’t expected it to be so early.

“The solution is obvious.” Laurent continues. “Hold a fight for Delpha. Prince versus Prince. Whoever wins gains Delpha. Tell your father,” he looks to Damen, “and your generals,” he looks to Auguste, “that you want to talk to each other, one-on-one before any large battles take place. Claim you want to try peace, or that you want to convince the other to surrender, whatever you need to say to get them to agree. Then, when you meet in the middle, pretend to disagree. Go back to your own sides and claim a fight for your sides. You both don’t want to sacrifice more than you need to. Hold a sword fight. Winner takes Delpha. This way your men respect your sacrifice and you can hold them to the task of honoring the fight and it’s rules, which will help stop any public uprisings from happening. Then the focus can be brought to other things.”

Jord blinks up at him for a moment before frowning. Auguste and Damen are silently looking at Laurent with wide eyes.

“Why didn’t you say this hours ago? We could have definitely been sleeping then.” Jord says and Laurent hears Nikandros laugh from behind him and immediately try to cover it with a cough.

“I was hoping that two Prince’s who were trained in diplomacy might come up with their own solution. I was wrong.” Laurent says dryly and Nikandros doesn’t try to cover his laugh this time.

Auguste finally composes himself and looks between Damen and Laurent. “That wouldn’t work as well as you’re hoping it would.” His expression creases with thought. “If what you said is true, and Akielos wins this war and gets Delfeur then they did that honorably and during a fight. Vere would have had no reason to revolt because we would have lost in a proper way. Having it be just me and Damianos fighting, even if we are rather well matched with swords… If he wins, and I’m saying _if_ because now I know what skill level to expect, and we lose Delfeur, it will be without that battle and Vere will feel cheated. We’d need something in exchange for giving up Delfeur.”

Jord nods.

“An exchange could work. That’s typical in peace treaties. What if we stop considering this as a battle and instead consider it a peace treaty, at least among those of us here?”

Nikandros finally weighs in, leaning forward and toying with a stale piece of cheese from the food tray. “It’s too bad neither of you has a sister. Typically a peace treaty of this magnitude would involve an arranged marriage. And that would work to help quell any civilian animosity at losing.” He pops the cheese in his mouth and almost immediately grimaces as he chews.

A thought pops into Laurent’s head.

“You don’t have a sister. But you have me.”

Nikandros looks at Laurent dubiously. “No offense, _pet_ , but you don’t look anything like--”

Laurent waves his hand impatiently to interrupt him before turning to look at Auguste and Damen.

“Akielos gets Delpha. Vere has it’s second son married into Akielos. Vere loses a province but gains influence in Akielos’ court which they’ve never had. It’s an even trade, or it will seem like it to your people. Then, because I will personally be in Akielos with Damen I can see once and for all if Kastor was working with Charls. We break down Kastor’s plans till they’re completely demolished and then I go to Vere to help you figure things out there until the actual alliance comes about. We can claim that I missed home and wished to see it one last time to explain why I’m away from Damen and---”

“Absolutely not.” Laurent’s mouth snaps shut at the vehemence with which Damen spits out those words. Damen stands from his chair, shaking his head.

“You have decided to stay, for now, to help. But marrying me, it’s.. It’s too much, Laurent. You didn’t even want to be here, and now you’re deciding to get married? How would you get out of that and back home? Too many things would weigh upon the marriage and your presence. I would never ask this of you. We’ll find another way.”

Laurent stands up, his expression fierce.

“There isn’t another way. You and Auguste have been speaking for hours now and you haven’t managed to come up with a solid plan. We’ve been missing from camp for hours, we can’t afford to spend anymore time here. You’re presence will have definitely been missed. This plan makes sense and it could work. We’ll figure out how to get me back to my own time later, when things have settled down. Damen, you’ve let me help you before.”

Damen looks away from him and Laurent can see his jaw clench. His hands ball into fists for a moment before he releases and he turns back to to shake his head again in disagreement.

“That was smaller. This? This is too big. I couldn’t ask this of you. It’s too much.” Laurent steps closer, more into Damen’s space while forcing him to keep eye contact.

“You’re not asking me, I’m offering. This is my decision, Damen.” Damen’s expression flickers with one of frustration and he turns without another word, leaving the tent with determined strides and Laurent’s mouth opens to call after him. A hand comes down on his shoulder and when he looks it’s Nikandros, his eyes on the tent entrance.

“I’ve got him. I’ll keep him out of trouble. We’ll be back.” And then Nikandros is gone as well. Auguste shares a look with Jord before Jord sighs and slowly stands, running his hands over his face to try and wake himself up more.

“Please make sure no one shoots them.” Auguste says and Laurent can hear Jord mumble something that sounds suspiciously like ‘i’d love to watch them get shot’ under his breath. Auguste gives him a look.

“I’ll make sure no one shoots them.” He parrots in an almost robotic voice, and then it’s just Laurent and Auguste in the tent.

“It’s a good idea.” Auguste says, still sitting, one of his hands is tracing the lines in the woodwork of the table, the other is folded under his chin and propping his head up. Laurent slowly sits back down. “I have to agree with Damianos, though. This seems like too much to ask of you.”

Laurent opens his mouth to protest that really it’s his decision, but Auguste waves his hand dismissively.

“It’s not that I think you couldn’t do it. It’s that I’ve only just met you, and this… This would be a monumental task. I don’t think I could do it, if I were in your shoes.”

Laurent doesn’t know what to say to that, so he sits quietly for a moment and he’s rewarded with Auguste leaning forward in his seat and focusing intently on Laurent.

“Are you certain you could do it? Marry… An Akielon?” The way he says the word Akielon, as if it’s a particularly disgusting bug that’s stumbled upon his path is amusing and Laurent finds his lips twitching.

“I don’t think it’d be the hardship for me that you’re thinking it would be.” Laurent says diplomatically but Auguste’s face splits into a wide familiar grin; teasing.

“ _You like him.”_ He accuses in Veretian and Laurent feels the back of his neck heat.

 _“He’s not--- I don’t---It’s not like that between us.”_ Laurent finds himself stuttering and Auguste’s face gets mischievous.

 _“Did you know that if you were to go through with this, and you were to marry Damianos that my council would insist on being there?”_ Laurent gives Auguste a concerned look.

 _“... You do realise that Damen’s generals and his father would want to be there as well, right? I’m pretty sure that’s common in most alliance agreements.”_ He says scathingly and Auguste laughs.

 _“No! No. I meant,”_ He leans in rather closely to Laurent, his lips twitching, _“That in Vere, and especially with the royal family, all marriages must be consummated,”_ he begins and Laurent’s face heats but he fights to keep a neutral expression.

 _“That’s a typical thing with most marriages, you know.”_ He cuts in again but Auguste’s grin only gets wider.

 _“The council has to have proof that the consummation was completed.”_ Laurent’s brows furrow and he can hear the underlying laughter as Auguste continues. “ _And they don’t take soiled sheets as proof. They have to be there. In the room. As it happens.”_

Laurent’s mouth falls open.

“ _They have to watch?_ ” He chokes, scandalized, and Auguste finally loses it, either at his tone or his expression, and begins laughing. _“You had better be joking.”_ Laurent begs and Auguste shakes his head. He’s still giggling.

 _“I’m not joking. It doesn’t have to be all of them. But at least half of them. They were there when Kashel and I got married. It’s… Very awkward.”_ He manages in between giggles and Laurent finds himself frowning in dismay which only sets Auguste off again.

 _“So I--- We--- But I’m not actually the Prince.”_ Laurent pushes and Auguste shrugs.

_“But you’ll be playing him, which is as good as. They won’t know you’re not my brother.”_

Laurent swallows, looking down at his hands which have tangled themselves in his lap. _“I don’t--- It’s not….”_ He trails off and Auguste goes quiet. He mistakes what Laurent has been trying to say.

“It’s alright. It’s awkward, but it’s always going to be awkward for your first time, let alone with lots of ancient men watching and listening but… Perhaps you should discuss this with Damianos. Before anything is entirely decided. I imagine his captain is itching to get him back to safety behind his lines, and the night really has run away with us. I’ll send a discreet messenger in a few days time so we all have time to think things over. See if we can find another way.” He offers, no longer in Veretian, just in time for Nikandros to pop his head into the tent.

“Did I just hear you say we’re allowed to leave? I’m taking my Prince with me.” He states and Auguste waves his hand in surrender as he stands, holding a hand out to Laurent and Laurent is helpless but to take it. It may not be his Auguste, but it’s still an Auguste, and Laurent would do anything to hold his hand just one more time. Auguste grabs his discarded medical bag and hands it to him, watching as he slings it over his shoulder before they walk to Nikandros who’s already ducked back out of the tent.

Auguste stops him before he leaves and when Laurent looks back up at him he imagines that it’s his Auguste looking back at him, if only for a second, in the early morning light.

“Thank you, for what you did for Rochert.” Laurent blinks, no expecting the new topic but he gives a bow of his head.

“It’s my job.” Auguste’s lips quirk at the edges.

“If I hadn’t known any better I’d have said that politics was your job, you’re rather good at them. Or strategizing.” Laurent playfully shrugs, looking over his shoulder at him.

“I’m quite good at everything, I think you’ll find.” He says and Auguste laughs. His laugh sounds exactly like his Auguste’s had.

“I will see you again, Laurent of Vere.” He says bowing his head, “Please, try and make sure they don’t shoot my messenger.”

Laurent exits the tent with a small grin on his face, not looking back as he walks along the quiet lines of tents to where Damen and Nikandros are mounted on the horse Nikandros rode in on and the horse he led beside him. Damen’s jaw is still clenched and he’s looking out over the tents instead of at Laurent. Laurent looks at him silently for a moment before minutely sighing and heading towards Nikandros. Nikandros raises an eyebrow but says nothing as he puts his foot into the styrrup and moves to pull himself up behind the captain.

“What are you doing?” Damen asks and Laurent pauses, one foot raised and one foot still on the ground. He casts a glance up at Damen to see him looking down at Laurent with furrowed brows.

“I’m getting on the horse.” Laurent says flatly and Damen looks for a moment as though he’s going to roll his eyes but he stops himself.

“With Nikandros?”

Laurent pulls his foot from the styrrup and turns completely to face Damen, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I’ve ridden with the captain before and you don’t seem particularly wanting for company.” He says defensively and watches Damen slump in his seat for a moment before straightening again, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m-- I’m mad at the situation. I’m not mad at you, Laurent. Come on.” He moves back in the saddle seat, leaving enough room for Laurent to sit in front of him and Laurent looks back at Nikandros. Nikandros shrugs.

“It’s up to you, _pet._ But I’d like to leave as soon as possible. I’d prefer not to get shot in the Veretian’s main camp, and Damen’s already going to be in trouble for being gone a day. I can’t imagine how we’re going to explain both of your disappearances.”

Laurent deliberates for a moment before stepping forward and swinging himself up onto Damen’s horse. He grabs the reigns and tries not to lean back completely into the warmth behind him. Damen’s hands automatically come around his waist and rest on his thighs and he swallows down the sound he’d almost made. Damen’s hands feel like fire brands even through the layers of Laurent’s clothes. His mind flickers to Auguste’s teasing… _consummating a marriage with Damen..._ and he feels his face heat. He straights in his seat and turns the horse around, it starts walking and Nikandros follows along as they slowly leave the camp.

“Speaking, of disappearances. How did you know where we were?” Laurent asks, trying to distract his brain.

“Elon. He’d been tasked with watching you for the day, and when you slipped away from him he went looking and spotted  Damen being coerced by Veretians. He claims he was going to step in to help when you stumbled in and both of you were taken away. He ran as fast as he could to come tell me. I followed the path Elon pointed me in, as well as the trail that the horses made and there I found the camp.”

“You didn’t tell my father where you were going?” Damen asks and Laurent can feel the vibrations of his voice against his back. He suppresses a shiver. The morning is cold, he mentally remarks while trying to convince himself that’s why he was going to shiver. It doesn’t really work.

Nikandros gives Damen a look.

“No. That’s going to be your job when we get back.”

Damen sighs but Laurent can feel the tension and the anger melt away from him the further from the camp they get. When they are completely surrounded by trees and they can’t see a single Veretian tent then Nikandros takes the lead, kicking his horse into a run. Laurent spurs his heels into the flanks of Damen’s horse, or as far as he can reach with Damen’s legs in the way and they race after him. The sun begins to shine through the leafless trees and it flickers across Laurent’s gaze in bright flashes.

Damen’s hands leave his thighs and tighten themselves elsewhere, his arms wrapping snuggly around Laurent’s waist as he leans forward in the saddle with Laurent. Laurent’s heart pounds in his chest and he can’t figure out if it’s from the exhilaration of riding a speeding horse or from the man holding tightly onto him.

He urges the horse to go faster.

 

***

 

Laurent wakes on the morning of his tenth day in the Akielon camp with a realization. He’s been here almost two weeks and he has yet to see the King of Akielos. Every morning Damen disappears into his father’s tent, and then every afternoon since they’d met Prince Auguste Damen comes to steal him away from the infirmary. They convene in Nikandros’ tent, sometimes Nikandros is there but oftentimes he’s out training with his men or sitting council with the king and those of his generals who’ve made it so far north.

Laurent learns that Damen sends Pallas out in the early hours of the morning to retrieve whatever messages Auguste has sent before the rider can be spotted by Akielon patrols and then Pallas hand delivers the missive to Damen before Damen goes to meet with his father where they discuss potential strategies as well as what Damen had learned during his mission around the country and how it’ll affect their plans for moving forward.

He hasn’t met the infamous Makedon either, when he thinks about it. When he isn’t escaping with Damianos he’s hidden away in the infirmary or out running errands for Rhoda and the Kyros of Ellium is always closer to the front lines and is actually hardly in the main Akielon camp. While Laurent thinks this at first to be a disadvantage, he quickly grows to see it for what it is - a small miracle.

Because neither Makedon nor Theomedes have personally met Laurent it will be far easier to convince them he’s Charls when the time comes for it. They haven’t seen Charls, and they haven’t met Laurent. They won’t be questioning why a random Veretian doctor is parading around as a Prince or why a Prince has been parading around in their country pretending to be a doctor. This is true for many of the kyroi, Nikandros had always met with them first and at the nighttime feasts the halls and tables were packed with men. Laurent hadn’t even seen which people were the kyroi and which were their generals. He’d only been able to point out the men and women that Elon and Aktis spoke to to Damen.

It’s been a week since that first tumultuous meeting with Prince Auguste and the weather has taken a turn for the worse. It’s been snowing for the past three days, coating everything in a thick blanket of snow and making it so that there’s no reason for Laurent to really venture out of camp to look for potential herbs. So he’s been stuck in the infirmary for most of the day until Damen comes to grab him, and then he’s stuck in Nikandros’ tent. Those are the only places he goes - the only places he can go if he wants to avoid having anyone important see him.

He’s feeling quite cooped up.

Perhaps Damen’s noticed the tension and agitation Laurent’s been showing or perhaps he hasn’t and he just also wanted a change in scenery. But that night as Laurent is whisked away from a footsoldier with a freshly stitched arrow wound Damen takes him in the same direction as he always takes him; towards Nikandros’ tent. Except this time in the fading light of the setting sun Damen grabs his gloved hand and pulls him around behind Nik’s tent, and instead of going inside Laurent is tugged along to the next tent over where Damen let go of his hand and lifts the fabric while motioning for Laurent to go inside. He casts Damen a curious glance but ducks inside, pulling his thick cloak tighter around himself to try and ward against the cold wind of the night.

Inside the tent it’s warm, almost stiflingly so. There’s a small metal fire pit set in the middle of the tent, a wide metal bowl holding coals and thick wooden logs who’s flames licked up and out the edges of the cage placed on top of it. This tent is more decorated than Nikandro’s is, and it’s easily far more austere than the infirmary tent. Though it’s still rather simple in comparison to the few Veretian tents Laurent had seen.

There are thick bolds of red cloth draped in the corners and blocking any potential winter air from leaking in where the sides of the tent are tied together. There’s a sturdy wooden desk to one side with a pitcher of wine and some cups placed just to the left of a map that Laurent guesses would have Delpha as it’s focus. Opposite the desk there’s a large and rather comfortable looking cot that looks more like a nest of silky blankets and furs than anything else.

Laurent swallows and turns to watch Damen duck into the tent behind him. As soon as the fabric is dropped to the ground Damen bends down to replace a large rock on the folded bottom edge of the fabric, likely to help hold it down against the wind.The flames flicker widly in their bowl before settling back down. The only sound is the crackling of the fire, Laurent and Damen’s breaths, and the soft whispers of wind fluttering the tent fabric.

“Where are we?”

Laurent knows where they are. He’s never been in this tent but it has signs of Damianos all over it. Damen’s armor is near the fire, set on its own blanket with cloths strewn about as if he’d been polishing the metal chestplate and had left it half done - Laurent knows he wouldn’t have. Damen’s leather riding armor is peaking out of a chest hidden around the edges of the bed-nest, neatly folded and awaiting warmer weather. Damen’s royal red chlamys is draped over the back of a high-backed chair that is sat behind the desk.

Damen casually strolls over to the desk, putting the tips of his gloved fingers in his mouth and pulling the gloves off only to haphazardly throw them on the desk and pour himself a cup of wine. He turns around, leaning back against the desk and looking at Laurent over the edges of his glass while he takes a sip. He pulls the cup away and slowly holds it out to his side, motioning widely at their surroundings.

“We’re in my tent.”

Laurent observes Damen for a moment before walking over to the bed and stealing one of the many furs. He carries it over to the fire and sets it down on the ground, leathered side down, before sitting down cross-legged on it and holding his hands out to the fire. Damen watches him, amused.

“Any particular reason we couldn’t come through the front door?” He asks, looking into the flames.

“There’s been a change in plans.”

His eyes flick up to Damen’s and he raises an eyebrow. Damen starts speaking in his perfect Veretian.

 _“We’re getting you out of the camp. Tonight. There’s only three of the kryoi here, but the other four are on their way. Among them is Meniados, who plans to be the last to arrive. If he sees you here he’s going to let something slip about who you really are, or he’s going to voice his suspicions to my father and---_ ”

“ _He’s always thought I was a spy of some sort._ ” Laurent interrupts and Damen lifts his glass towards him in a mocking toast.

“ _Exactly. Now, as I was saying. Auguste is sending Jord and one of his other men to meet us outside of camp, near where they grabbed us the first time, they’ll be taking you with them back to the Veretian side. You’ll receive lessons there on how to act more like Prince Charls, as well as lessons in what you really need to know as we go forward into the negotiations and the,_ ” Damen pauses to take a fortifying sip of wine, “ _The wedding._ ” The word comes out slightly strained and Laurent leans back, pulling his hands behind himself and putting them on the fur to lean his weight on them. He unfolds his legs and let’s them splay out in front of him. He can feel the heat of the fire through his boots.

“Do you want to go through with this?” Laurent finds himself asking, in english, because they’ve actually been avoiding talking about the wedding this entire week and Laurent still doesn’t know what Damen thinks. He wants to, though.

Damen sighs loud enough that Laurent can hear it before he puts his cup down on the desk and stalks to where Laurent is carefully sprawling. He doesn’t grab another fur, instead choosing to nudge Laurent over before sitting down beside him. Laurent pulls himself into a proper sitting position and notices that his and Damen’s arms run alongside each other from shoulder to wrist. Laurent’s fingers twitch and he has the quick thought of what it’d be like to hold Damen’s hand again. He refocuses on Damen’s face but Damen isn’t looking at him. Instead he’s looking into the flames.

“I don’t.. I don’t like the fact that this is the only plan that we’ve been able to think of that has the best chance of going right.” he starts slowly and Laurent feels Damen’s shoulder rise against his as he takes in a deep breath.

“You wish we had another plan.”

“Yes.” He says it so plainly that Laurent finds he has to look away. He pulls his arms into his lap and clasps his hands together, staring down at them.

“Is the thought of marrying me that awful?” His voice is soft, quiet, and he doesn’t understand why there’s this growing lump in his throat. It’s not real! It wouldn’t be a real marriage! It’s between Damianos and Charls of Vere, not Damen and himself. It’s political. It’s to win Akielos Delpha without the major loss of life that the final months of the Siege had wrought the first time around. It was his plan in the first place, to do this, so why is it making him feel so weird now? This isn’t about how either of them feel.

“ _Laurent!_ ” Damen gasps and Laurent tries to turn his head further away to hide his expression, he’s not sure what it would show Damen right now. He starts speaking in Akielon. _“Xenos, please look at me.”_

Laurent keeps his eyes focused on the silks on the bed, trying to distract himself in wondering how they’ve been dyed and how they’ve been made. It doesn’t work.

 _“Xenos._ ”

Damen’s hand slowly brushes along Laurent’s cheek and he startles but Damen keeps his touch light till he can turn Laurent’s face himself. Laurent avoids his eyes, looking down at an innocuous spot on the floor.

“ _Xenos._ ” He says it softly, for the third time and Laurent finally looks up at him, struggling to keep a blank expression fixed there.

“ _You still call me that,_ Foreigner.” His voice is tight around the words but Damen’s face softens.

“I don’t mean it like that.”

“Do you mean it the other way then? I asked Nikandros once what _xenos_ means. He told me the same thing you did, that it meant foreigner. He also told me it meant enemy.” Damen’s brows furrow.

“It.. It can. But I’ve never used it with you to say you were my enemy. I told you once that it had many meanings.” Damen said slowly and Laurent leans away far enough that Damen’s hand falls from his cheek. “It can mean those things, enemy, foreigner, stranger, but it can also mean more positive things, like guest-friend.”

“Guest friend.” Laurent says, his voice flat, and Damen nods.

“It’s… It’s one of the most honorable traditions in Akielos. To have someone whom you consider xenos, it’s--- It’s a sacred thing. They become like family. You treat them as you would your closest kin. I-- I’m not very good at explaining it. It’s something I’ve just always known growing up. I don’t know why Nikandros wouldn’t tell you of that part of it’s meaning. I’ve never meant it as something harmful when I use it for you, Laurent. I meant it as first you were a stranger, and then you were a guest, and now you are a friend. Soon.. Soon you will be family.”

Laurent feels the brief moment of his hostility begin to melt away into something more morose.

“But you don’t want me to be your family.”

Damen emphatically shakes his head, the corners of his mouth turning down in a grimace. “That’s not what I’ve said at all. I said I wish there was another way to go about this. This… You playing a dead Veretian Prince and marrying me all for the sake of a province and its people. It’s too much, I’d have never asked this of you myself because it doesn't seem right to ask so much of someone - especially when you’ve got so many problems of your own you’re dealing with. I should be able to solve this issue, as Prince of Akielos. And instead I’m having to push these responsibilities onto someone I consider a friend.”

Damen goes quiet for a moment but Laurent can still see the gears in his head turning and so he stays silent and waits for Damen to find the words to finish his statement.

“I’m not opposed to marrying you, Xenos. I’m opposed to forcing you into a marriage when you should be free to marry who you want - and for love, not for politics.” Laurent’s mouth moves open and closed a few times before he finally utters.

“And yet you think you don’t get that choice? To marry for love?” Damen gives him a smile tinged with sadness.

“I’m a Prince. It’s always been in my cards to marry for politics.”

“Kiss me.” Laurent blurts into the silent moment that follows Damen’s simple statement and Damen blinks.

“P-pardon?”

“I,” Laurent pauses. He hadn’t meant to say that but now he can’t really back down. “Auguste said that much of what happens with Veretian royal weddings has to be observed. And we’ll have to kiss anyways at the ceremony and I-- I’ve never…” Laurent’s voice dies in his throat and he can’t seem to force anymore words out. Damen’s face goes from confused to soft. His eyes flicker between Laurent’s. Laurent can’t tell him everything now, but he can tell him one thing.

“You’ve never…?” He asks and Laurent feels his face flush almost as hot as the flames beside them. His whole body feels like it’s going to burn up with embarrassment. He can’t believe Damen’s really going to make him say it.

“I’ve… I’ve never kissed anyone. Ever.” it comes out as a whisper, and his eyes are once again focused on his lap and not on Damen but there, he did it. He said it. “And I’d… I’d rather my first not be in front of tons of people.”

“You want your first kiss to be here, with me.” Damen says slowly, and Laurent groans, folding in on himself and wishing he’d never said anything.

“Please don’t make me say it again, soldier.” He mumbles through gritted teeth and Damen’s hand reaches into his field of vision to rest gently on top of his clenched fists.

“Laurent,” Laurent reluctantly looks back up, “I would be honored.” Laurent’s face goes slack in surprise but then Damen is standing up completely and looking down at Laurent. He walks around Laurent and heads towards the bed, sitting down on the edge of it. “Come here.” It’s a statement, not a question - an order and Laurent hesitates. Damen gives him an amused look while he smooths his hands over one of the sheets.

His silence must speak for his hesitation.

“I’m not going to _ravage_ you, _Xenos._ I just think it’d be better to be farther from the fire so no accidents happen. I’m only going to do what you’ve asked, and if you don’t like any part of it all you have to do is tell me. I’ll stop.” Laurent takes a deep breath but stands, leaving the fur by the fireplace and coming to sit in front of Damen. He seats himself awkwardly, and he knows he’s holding himself far too tightly but he’s full of nerves and is unsure of what to do.

“You speak as if you have experience in this area.” He manages and Damen shrugs.

“Kissing is easy.”

And Laurent-- Laurent doesn’t like going into a situation without some sort of experience. He’s read  books upon books about medicine and herbs and treatments, he’s read plenty of books on how to cook things and how to saddle a horse. They’ve all come with step by step instructions, but he’s never read a book on how to kiss and going into it blind is making him anxious in a way he’s never been before.

“Laurent, breathe.”

One of Damen’s hands comes up to cup the back of his neck and he rests his forehead against Laurent’s.

“Come on, in, and out. In, and out, that’s good. And again.”

It takes some minutes but Laurent is finally able to breathe normally again, and he’s not holding himself so tightly. Damen’s eyes flutter open as he pulls his head far enough away that he can see Laurent’s expression. He’s still close enough that Laurent feels when he exhales. It’s a soft warmth against his lips.

“Alright. Do it.” Laurent rushes, closing his eyes tightly and he feels Damen’s laugh against his face. Damen’s hand moves so it’s no longer cupping his neck, and instead it begins a slow path along the side of his neck and then out along his shoulder. Laurent opens his eyes.

“What---” he’s interrupted by Damen leaning in and pressing their lips together. All Laurent can register is a warm pressure and the brush of Damen’s nose against his before Damen is pulling away again. That’s it? He wants to ask, but something must get lost in translation between his brain and his mouth because he stays silent.

“Okay?” Damen asks softly and Laurent nods, swallowing. When his uncle… He’d never kissed Laurent, for which Laurent is grateful because that means there’s something that isn’t tainted by him. Which is relative because sometimes all of Laurent feels tainted, but he works so hard to push it down and away and not think about it.

Damen brings both his hands up to cup Laurent’s face, rubbing his thumbs softly against Laurent’s cheekbones and Laurent could swear the movement leaves behind a tingling sensation. He feels himself shudder the smallest bit. Damen gently tilts his head a small fraction before leaning back in and this time he begins to move his lips against Laurent’s.

Damen’s nose brushes against Laurent’s, and his thumb is still gently rubbing back and forth on his cheekbone. Damen’s lips are softly moving against his and after a moment of it Laurent begins to answer back to Damen’s wordless question. He feels as though he fumbles through the kiss, but as Damen pulls away and separates their lips again only to dive back in he becomes a little more confident in mirroring Damen’s movements.

It’s… Nice. Damen’s lips are warm, and his hands are warm, and Laurent can feel Damen’s knee resting alongside his and that it also warm. Damen’s completely gentle in his movements but there’s a soft tingling feeling creeping up on Laurent and when Damen’s tongue slowly slides along Laurent’s bottom lip he feels himself gasp and his hand, which had been resting awkwardly in his lap, comes up to latch onto Damen’s wrist.

It doesn’t escalate from there but there’s a spark between them that seems to grow in the warmth that Laurent is surrounded by. He begins to push forward into Damen’s kisses, his hand moving from Damen’s wrist and up along his arm till he can grab at the front of Damen’s jacket. Some part of him wants to get closer. Is tempted to swing his legs over and settle himself in Damen’s lap. Damen’s arms would come around him, hold him. He’d be surrounded in the warmth. He doesn’t, though, he stays sitting down on the bed across from Damen.

One of Damen’s hands moves from his face down his side and under his cloak in a featherlight touch and he shudders. Even through his thickly laced clothes it’s like he can feel the heat of Damen’s hand. He doesn’t mistake them for someone else's, which surprises him for a moment, but Damen’s presence is so sure and encompassing that Laurent’s brain refuses to think of him as anyone but himself. The hand stops at his waist before pushing around till it settles at the small of his back. He pulls Laurent in just a bit closer by the grip and Laurent willingly goes, pulling Damen’s jacket to try and bring Damen closer.

“Exalted.”

It’s a soft mutter from outside the tent but Laurent registers it all the same and he pulls away just enough to separate their lips. He can feel Damen’s soft breaths against his wet lips and he has to push away the urge to touch his own lips. They’re tingling. He notes now that his heart is racing in his chest and his breathing has sped up. His knuckles are white in their hold on Damen’s jacket. He slowly unfurls his fingers to let go.

Damen’s hand stays splayed on the small of his back, hidden under his cloak.

“Pallas.” Damen says back giving Laurent a warm look before sitting up straight and turning to face the entrance to his tent. He’s positioned himself so that it’s not noticeable his hand is still on Laurent’s back.

Pallas ducks his head into the tent but doesn’t come in. He doesn’t seem surprised to see Laurent inside. He bows his head to Damen.

“The horses are almost ready to go. Lydos grabbed all of the Doctor’s things and has packed them. We’ll meet the two of you on the edge of camp.” Damen nods in acknowledgement and Pallas bows his head once more before leaving. The tent’s entrance falls back into place and Laurent’s barely managed to calm his racing heartbeat.

“That’s,” he pauses to swallow, “our cue?”

Damen turns to look down at him, his hand rubbing slowly up and down on the small of Laurent’s back in an entirely distracting way. Laurent wonders how that hand would feel if he wasn’t wearing his thickest clothes. If he was wearing just a thing cotton shirt, or maybe even nothing. His face heats.

“It is. We’ll be taking a roundabout way out of the camp to cover our tracks. It’ll be just Pallas and Lydos with us. If we get caught I’ll claim I wanted to try and scout out the other camp when I figured the Veretians would be less likely to suspect us.”

Laurent’s eyes start at Damen’s eyes but quickly move down to his lips, watching him form each word. Laurent bites his own lip for a second before bringing his eyes back up to Damen’s. Damen eyes are shining with amusement. He opens his mouth to say something, probably stupid or smug, but this time Laurent reaches up to grab his face and he pulls Damen into another slow kiss.

The hand on the small of his back automatically pulls him in close. He sighs into the kiss.

This time it’s Lydos who comes calling. He doesn’t come inside, instead choosing to stand behind the tent where Laurent and Damen had come in from and telling them the horses are ready. They slowly pull apart but Damen keeps their foreheads leaning together like he’d done before he’d kissed Laurent. A thought buzzes around in Laurent’s head, and while his guard is down from Damen’s kisses it slips out.

“Wait wait.” Laurent  pulls away enough to try and look into his eyes, but Damen’s eyes stay shut.

“I.. I hadn’t kissed anyone, but I have-- I’ve done other stuff.” he manages and Damen doesn’t react.

“Okay.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” Laurent asks, frowning.

“What doesn’t bother me?”

“That I--- That I.” Laurent pulls his head farther away and Damen’s eyes open to meet his. “That I’m not a virgin.” He stutters and Damen’s head tilts to one side. One of his eyebrows rises and his lips quirk into a teasing grin.

“So long as it doesn’t bother you that I am, _Xenos_.”

Laurent’s brain stops working for a second. It must have. Or maybe it’s his ears, because he could have sworn that Damianos - The Handsome Crown Prince and Soldier of Akielos, just said he was a virgin.

“What.”

Damen laughs, reaching out to brush a lock of Laurent’s hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear. He lets his finger slowly linger as it travels Laurent’s jaw till he pulls it away.

“I’m not a virgin.”

“I thought I’d misheard you.” Laurent says after a moment. Damen grins and his dimple appears. Laurent can’t help himself from sticking his index finger into it which just makes Damen grin wider.

“And why would you think that?”

Laurent gives him an entirely unimpressed look. He shoves Damen abruptly, but teasingly. Damen goes with the push easily, his grin turning smug.

“You know exactly what you look like, you fool.” Laurent says with a blush and Damen leans in, his eyes sparkling.

“No I don’t think I do, please, enlighten me.”

Laurent rolls his eyes and stands up on slightly unsteady legs.

“I’m not having this conversation anymore, if your head gets any bigger you’re likely to float away. Let’s go before someone else comes to grab us.”


	7. for home a song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looks up through his lashes but stays close, not looking away from Damen’s eyes as he pulls the other shoulder pin from Damen’s chiton and the entire thing falls to drape around his waist where the final pin is the only thing holding it in place. His hand moves to find it, but with all the fabric in the way he fumbles and Damen’s other hand comes to guide his hand. Together they remove the last pin. 
> 
> Laurent won’t have Damen forever. But he can have this. They can have this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amazing art by [@ziote](www.ziote.tumblr.com/)  
> to the Corpse Bride tune : _a wedding! a wedding! we're going to have a wedding!_  
>  \-----------------------------

Lessons with Auguste are probably just as, if not more, trying as his initial medical lessons had been. There’s so much to learn and so little time to do it. The weather has become nigh unbearable and neither side is capable of making any moves against the other. Somehow Damen and Auguste are still able to exchange letters, despite the fact that the sentries won’t venture out more than a meter from the perimeter of the camp due to the cold. Laurent feels sorry for whichever poor soldier and their horse has to brave the biting cold and terrible snow to pass their missives back and forth. Whoever they are, they definitely deserve a pay raise.

Laurent hadn’t been able to keep track of which day specifically it was while he’d been travelling south with Damen and his men, but just a few nights ago the men of the Veretian camp had all gotten especially drunk to ring in the new year. It was now 1747, the last year of the Siege of Delpha. Laurent has been back in time for six months now and it’s been ten months since Auguste had died.

He’s unsure what his Auguste would think of this whole situation.

In just a few weeks the war is going to resume where it had left off - weather permitting, that is. The winters this far south in Vere are fast with the fall and spring seasons coming in early and lasting the longest out of all the seasons. Or so Laurent is told by Orlant and Huet, two of Auguste’s guards.

After speaking with Auguste he and Laurent come to the conclusion that this plan will have to involve a few more men who know everything and who are able to help distract from any moments where Laurent doesn’t act exactly as Charls. So a few days after he’d arrived in the Veretian camp he’d been properly introduced to Orlant, the man with a face like an ox who’d held a gun to Damen’s head, Huet, a blonde redcoat who followed Lazar around like a lost puppy. Guymar, who was probably the oldest of the bunch and had raven black hair peppered with greys and a short black beard, and Rochert.

Laurent has been checking on Rochert’s arm everyday and when he’s conscious Rochert is extremely grateful to Laurent. Auguste likes to joke that he’d won Rochert over before he’d even helped him, simply for looking like an ‘angel’. He now follows Laurent around dutifully and calls him ‘angel’ in a way entirely too reminiscent of Nikandros’ ‘pet’ nickname.

When Laurent had asked why none of the men had jumped to the conclusions Auguste had upon first seeing Laurent Auguste had explained that they’d only recently become his guard. When he’d left Arles to come south and check on his border forts as well as train his army, he’d left Charls behind in the palace with his father. None of these men had met Charls, except Jord, who’d travelled north to Arles at the news of King Tyrell’s unexpected death.

Originally Lazar had been part of Auguste’s guard, but he’d been sent on a mission to keep watch over the redcoats and any men who seemed to be particularly loyal to his Uncle. So far Lazar has noted that the thug, Govart, is one of the main redcoat men giving out orders - and that many of those orders came from the Uncle and not from the council as they were supposed to. Since the Uncle’s death, Govart has been flying blindly but still following through with the ultimate goal of his superior - Lazar has been working on finding out what that goal is.

Lazar had originally been in the camp for a few days as he updated Auguste on what he’d found out as well as any possible rumors that were starting up or circulating. Because he’s a high-ranking redcoat, he was made defacto captain of the camp while Jord was in Marlas with Auguste. Lazar had sent Guymar to retrieve the Bluecoat Captain and the Prince/King while Laurent had been slowly amputating Rochert’s arm and sewing it back up. Lazar had left the day after Laurent had come back to the Veretian camp.

Laurent is currently zoning out while Auguste drones on about the importance of greeting people in the Veretian court. Which order to do it in, how to tip your head at exactly the right angle to indicate interest of different levels, whether you bow or kiss someone’s hand. Laurent would normally be paying attention, maybe even making notes, but Auguste has had him sitting in the tent with the large hardwood table since breakfast and Laurent’s legs are completely numb. He’s also trying not to fall asleep.

Auguste has taken to waking him early in the mornings, before the sun has even started lighting the sky, to get him used to running on what he calls ‘A Prince’s Time’. So Laurent wakes before dawn, has breakfast, spends the morning till lunch learning about Charls and the Veretian court, and then after lunch he runs away to the infirmary to check on Rochert and anyone else to keep his hands busy but let his mind process what he’s learned. Auguste drags him back to Marlas for dinner where he’d recently begun having Laurent sit beside him and act as the newly arrived Prince Charls as an exercise in acting. Then they’d retire to Auguste’s room to go over whatever missive Damen had managed to send and the contents it contained. After that Laurent retires to the room that has been cleared and cleaned for himself, as Prince Charls, where he lays awake in bed obsessing over all the potential ways this plan could go wrong.

Damen’s earliest letters explain that Aktis and Elon have been sent back to Ios with a small faction of men, all of whom were friends or fellow soldiers of Kastor’s, to escort Kastor north when the temporary ceasefire of the season ends. Rhoda has been told that Laurent was sent on a mission by Nikandros and wouldn’t be returning. This leaves only Pallas, Lydos and Nikandros in the camp who know Laurent’s true identity and have seen him, all of whom are unswervingly loyal to Damianos an have been let in on parts of the plan.  

Sometimes Damen’s letters are officially addressed to Auguste under the pretense of starting the beginning stages of their plan, but just as often there are many unofficially addressed to Auguste and even more unofficially addressed to Laurent.

The letters for Laurent are simple and softer than Laurent would have expected, had he thought Damen might write to him. Damen speaks of all the small things he sees or stories from Pallas or Lydos that he thinks Laurent would have found amusing from daily camp life. He tells Laurent of everything he does, from convincing his father to let him try his hand at peace when the ceasefire ends to how Damen would sit near the fire in his tent and wish Laurent was there so he could to hold Laurent’s hand again. Each small admission from Damen about how he wants to hold Laurent’s hand, or sit beside him, or how he misses their conversations lights a fire in Laurent and makes him lie awake at night thinking about the few kisses they’ve shared and about the potential for what’s to come.

Sometimes there are moments where Auguste pauses or withdraws, as if he forgets that Laurent is Laurent and not Charls. And sometimes Laurent misses his own Auguste so much that he can’t speak to the prince without a large lump in his throat, but they always push past it.

Laurent’s eyes are beginning to droop and his posture slumps further and further as Auguste continues to drone on about the exact way one was to walk among the court when Huet stick his bright head inside the tent for a second to shout. “Lunch time, Your Highness!”

Laurent startles and Auguste’s mouth hangs open mid-word for a moment before he sheepishly grins.

“Well, let’s not keep the soldiers’ waiting then. Come on, Laurent.”

Laurent sighs and stands to join him on the walk from the camp back up to the fort. Huet comes into step beside him.

“Rochert’s been looking for you. Say’s he’s got something you’d like to see.” Laurent gives him a dry look, ignoring Huet’s suggestive smirk.

“If it’s his cock, tell him I’ve seen bigger on dogs.” Huet breaks into laughter and Laurent can swear he sees Auguste’s shoulders shake with laughter in front of them. The sides of Laurent’s lips quirk up in a grin before he straightens himself up and pastes on a bland expression, slipping into his Charls impression. He tilts his chin high and quickens his gait till he’s beside Auguste and matching him step for step. Soldiers look up from where they’re attending to business for the day, bundled up in thick layers, and they bow to the proposed sight of their two princes.

 

***

 

Laurent has been in the Veretian camp for a month and he’s practically perfected his Charls persona, according to Auguste. He’s biting and short with anyone of lower station who’s even the smallest bit irritating. He’s smooth and simpering around anyone of the court who’s trying to suck up to him, while being subtly insulting in such a way that they don’t even realize they’ve been insulted. He walks around as if he owns the place, only letting his guard down around Auguste and his men when he knows they won’t be walked in on.

Huet and Orlant have taken to calling him Charls without any hesitation. Guymar almost never says his name either way, but he bows to Laurent even when they aren’t in front of anyone who’d care if he didn’t. Rochert still trails after Laurent but Auguste had said he’d told him to keep an eye on Laurent and the people around him to see how the few court people and the soldiers react to Charls being down at the front lines. Lazar had come back with a small contingent of redcoats who’d been following Laurent like ducklings, all of whom had been loyal to Auguste’s Uncle and Charls.

Laurent has slowly started filtering information from them about the current plans Charls and Auguste’s uncle, the man the redcoats called The Regent, had been pushing to complete. He gives them orders he thinks Charls would have, and reports directly to Auguste on all their movements.

It’s nearing the end of February when Auguste makes his first physical move of their plan, after writing publicly back and forth with Damianos of Akielos. He pulls his army back a few meters so that they’re on the edges of the trees instead of in the wide open field. In the quickly melting snow the Akielon camp has advanced till they too are on the edges of the field, opposite to the Veretians.

Damen has gotten the approval from his father to try to get Vere to surrender Delpha. Auguste has gotten written approval from his distant council, who are halfway through making the trek down from Arles, to push for Akielos’ surrender.

They’re meeting today for the “first” time in the middle of the open field. They’ve both decided to bring two men each as witnesses and guards. Damen is bringing Pallas and Nikandros. Auguste is bringing Laurent and Jord.

If Laurent had thought the outfits that he’d had to wear to the dinners in Abydos had been extremely uncomfortable and over the top then he doesn’t even know what he’d classify the outfit he’s currently wearing. It’s the same bright red as the redcoats and it’s even more intricately designed than any of the tents in the Veretian camp. He’s been put in red as a public symbol of his support in the Regent and the council instead of Auguste, as it’s their color. Charls had already publicly aligned himself with them for years, never wearing even the smallest amounts of the bright royal blue of his family. The blue that Auguste and Jord were sporting.

The outfit is thicker than the outfits Laurent had from Abydos, which apparently had been Veretian summer outfits, to account for the cold weather. He’s tightly laced in meters and meters of lace. His arms are laced, his back and sides are laced, his legs are laced. Even his leather boots and leather gloves are laced, as is his jacket. It’s like he’s drowning in laces and ties. He has a white cloak resting over the whole outfit and he rides the golden horse Damen had gotten for him. His hair has been braided back in a tight and harsh braid, not a single hair loose or out of place. The woman who’d done his hair had been very brash and almost violent in her quest for perfection from him.

Auguste wears his hair loose around his shoulders and his cloak is silver. His horse is a bright white that stands out among the patches of filthy snow and mud. He rides across the open field from the Veretian camp with Laurent a few paces behind him and Jord a few paces behind Laurent. They’re on either side of Auguste’s horse. Damen, Pallas and Nikandros advance from their side of the camp at the same time.

It takes a few slow moments for them both to reach the middle. No one dismounts from their horses. They all keep their expressions blank and carefully even. Laurent makes sure to twist his face in mild disgust despite the fact that he wants nothing more than to smile at Damen and see him smile in return. Even from this far away both sides of the field can see them, if not their exact expressions they’ll still be able to see their body language.

Damen looks remarkably close to how Laurent had seen him when they’d first met. His lower half covered in the leather armor skirt, standard for the Akielon army, and his chest buckled into the leather armor with his shiny chestplate over top. His chlamys is wrapped and draped to be a single shoulder cape and despite the cold he’s wearing strapped leather sandals that go almost all the way up to his knees. He’s not wearing any sort of coat or cloak. A crown of golden leaves sparkle between his curls in the bright morning sunlight. He’s breathtaking, and looks every inch the Prince he was born to be.

Jord and Laurent stop meters from the middle of the field, as do Nikandros and Pallas, letting both Auguste and Damen meet in the middle. Neither of them reach a hand out for greeting or to hail the other. Laurent can’t hear what them from this distance, but he could see their mouths moving with quick words.

This is the first stage in the plan. They meet here and then both ride back declaring that there is to be a fight between just the Prince’s. A fight for Honor and for Delpha, not a fight to the death but a fight till first blood. Winner takes Delpha, loser has to pack up their things and leave on honor of their prince’s performance. Both sides will be held accountable to any further actions committed. If either side decides they don’t like the deal or want to follow it then things could go wrong incredibly fast.

If Auguste loses the fight at the next meeting, then Damen would declare he wants to end all the fighting between their people. Auguste would act bitter and determined to win something for his people. He’d suggest that his people would freely leave Delpha without a fight if Damen marries his brother. He will later explain to his people that this grants them a foot in the Akielon government and influence in the capital. Which is something they’ve never had. This should satisfy many of them, Auguste’s men will hopefully spread word of how brave Auguste is to take on the Prince by himself to spare his men and guarantee their safe journey home to their families.

The fact of Charls being in Akielos, apparently against his will as Laurent will act betrayed and completely against the plan, will draw out Charls and The Regent’s supporters from the Veretian side who would try to “save” Charls or reach out to assure him of their support even with him so far south.

Laurent takes a deep breath of the crisp winter air to fortify himself.

He watches Auguste rear back in his saddle before he leans forward and Damen puts on an almost genuinely shocked expression before his features twist into anger and he spits some last words at Auguste. He turns sharply and rides back to Pallas and Nikandros who turn and ride beside their prince at a gallop to their own side of the field. They don’t look back. Laurent can see Theomedes and some of his Kyroi waiting for their Prince and whatever news he’ll bring.

Auguste rides back to Laurent and Jord with a thunderous and determined expression. They head back to camp without another word and Auguste calls his generals as he passes the first lines of his men. He yells for them to meet him immediately in the dining hall of Marlas. Laurent turns his expression mildly smug, to show anyone paying enough attention that he thinks the discussions for surrender and peace haven’t worked, and like he hadn’t thought they would in the first place. He hears the men begin to whisper as they cast careful glances to the Akielon camp across the way.

Laurent shares a look with Jord who’s eyes speak more than the rest of his face.

Let the show begin.

 

***

 

Everything is working according to plan. Auguste has ‘strategized’ with his generals all night. Coming up with many creative arguments as to why he should go through with this fight against the Prince of Akielos and delivering a rousing speech about how ‘if he isn’t willing to fight for his men how can he expect them to fight for him’. It  works, the generals are mostly convinced, and the many common soldiers who’d squished into the halls are rearing to show their support for their Golden Prince. He insists he can win, and as Laurent hides amongst the men in his ratty old wool cloak to disguise himself all he can think of is Damen doing the exact same song and dance over in the Akielon camp.

As the men all disperse to begin their daily training exercises, pumped up from a personal speech from their prince, Laurent tries to follow Auguste and catch him but Auguste manages to slip away before Laurent can reach him. Laurent frowns but leaves the halls and heads to Auguste’s rooms, slipping quietly inside when the hallway is clear, intent on waiting things out to discuss what they’ll be doing next and what Laurent needed to prepare for.

He falls asleep at Auguste’s desk, looking over some of the letters Damen had officially sent to the Crown Prince of Vere.

He doesn’t wake when Auguste enters the room, nor when Auguste takes one look at his slumped form and gently lifts him from the desk chair and lays him on his bed. Auguste then sits at his desk and grabs a fresh piece of paper while he pops open his inkwell. He glances once more upon Laurent, laid out still fully dressed in his austere clothes and dark wool cloak, before grinning mischievously and beginning to write a detailed and swooping letter to the blacksmith in Fortaine. He pulls aside another piece of stationery that he addresses to the seamstress also inside Fortaine.

Laurent doesn’t wake when Jord knocks, nor when Jord enters the room with his boots clicking against the stone floors. Auguste hands Jord the letters and Jord carefully conceals them in the folds of his jacket. They both quietly leave the room, Auguste closing the door behind him.

Auguste goes down to the training grounds that had been hastily erected months ago, and he engages Rochert in a slow sword fight. Rochert had been left handed before the accident and was now having to learn everything right handed. It was slow going. No one notices Jord slip away on horseback, riding carefully through the trees towards the Akielon side before rushing away to Fortaine.

Laurent wakes just in time for supper, shaken into awareness by Auguste who looks flushed with mild excitement and also likely some wine.

It takes a week for the battle between Damianos of Akielos and Auguste of Vere to be completely planned out. And it takes but half an hour for a victor to emerge.

Even knowing that the plan was for himself to lose, Auguste had fought with everything he had. He’d managed to disarm Damen once but had stepped back to allow the man to pick back up his sword so they would start again. Many soldiers would later claim to have seen the sight and to have been blown away by the strong sense of honor their Crown Prince possessed, even when fighting against an Akielon. He and Damen had sparred back and forth for agonizing minutes, Laurent had wanted to look away multiple times. He’d been torn between racing to the both of them and calling everything off or turning his horse completely around and trying not to shudder at the thought of something going wrong.

It had been agreed by both Auguste and Damianos, and therefore Theomedes and his generals and Auguste’s generals that the fight would be till first blood. And it ended when Damianos managed to spot an opening in Auguste’s defense and slice shallowly along his bicep. Auguste never lost hold of his sword, but he bowed gracefully all the same.

The Akielon side had erupted into cheers and the Veretian side into shocked silence. Damianos and Auguste clasped hands, speaking quietly to each other. Auguste made it look as though he was arguing for something and Damen made it look as though he grudgingly agreed. Damen cast a blatant look towards Laurent before he and Auguste bowed at each other. Auguste walked back to his horse, still panting, and Damen walked back to his. Both men mounted their horses and rode to their sides.

Auguste pulls his horse till he faces his soldiers. His face is somber yet determined.

“Men! I am sorry I have failed you in this.” The Veretians erupt into a cacophony of disgruntled mutters. Some of them mutter about how Auguste should not have let Damianos regain the use of his sword, completely erasing their earlier praise of the move. “But!” Auguste continues, “I do not come back empty handed!” Laurent turns to look around as the men’s face’s twist in confusion. “An alliance is to be made, we may have lost Delfeur, but we have gained something in return! Something even greater than a second-hand province. My brother,” Auguste motions to Laurent and Laurent’s frowns in confusion for everyone to see, “shall be going to Akielos. Where he shall stay in Ios with the Crown prince of Akielos. Damianos of Akielos has agreed to marry your Prince and grant him equal rule of Akielos at his side. We may have lost a province in name, but we have won a country in loyalty under my brother!”

Laurent rears back in his saddle, his face flickering from outright shock to betrayal and the settling on seething anger. His horse shakes its head unhappily as he tugs just a little too sharply on her reigns. He mentally apologizes to her.

The rest of the Veretians though. They seem ecstatic. Their Golden Prince lost in an honorable fight and still managed to win them something. Many are unlikely to understand the full repercussions of such a deal, but the generals all look incredible impressed.

Later as Auguste receives toast after toast in the dining hall at Marlas Auguste loudly declares that he managed to pull the deal from Damianos because of the striking moment when he’d allowed Damen to pick up his sword and continue fighting. Damianos had found the moment honorable and had decided to agree to Auguste’s terms. One of the generals jokes that the Akielons wouldn’t know what hit them, having a Veretian prince as their crowned consort, and everyone else dissolves into rowdy laughter and agreement.

Laurent makes sure to stay somber and keep his face most blank but with anger barely hidden underneath. He ses many sets of observant eyes turning to him throughout the night and when Auguste publicly claps him on the back after a toast to his younger brother Laurent let’s his face twist into a snarl before faking a large smile and raising his glass with Auguste. He slips away from the festivities early.

His history lessons are a sizzling tempo in the back of his mind. The final defining battle of the Siege of Delpha, the Battle at Marlas, had happened on March 2nd of 1747. It had been marked down, and the day was one of celebration in Akielos and had been marginally celebrated even during the Second Patran War.

Yet he can’t get the sight of Damen defenceless on his knees out of his mind. The one moment where Auguste had managed to disarm him. Had that happened in the actual war? Or was that just because Auguste knew he’d historically lost to Damianos and had fought even harder?

It invades his dreams that night, along with the sound of hundreds of Veretian men laughing. Except in his dream he doesn’t see Auguste let Damen pick back up his sword. Instead he sees Auguste stab Damen and Damen fall. No matter how fast he makes his horse run he can’t get any closer to the two of them.

He wakes up paralyzed, his body slowly melting back into movement, his heart racing. The moon is still high in the sky outside his window. He sits in bed, watching as the morning of March 3rd comes about slowly and calmly, the sun slowly rising and coloring the sky in beautiful color and thinks about how much he still doesn't know about the history he's currently a part of. 

 

***

 

Logically Laurent knows that it’s taken weeks to get here, months even. It took two months for the winter to pass, which was two months of waiting till the snow had melted enough that their plan could move forward. One of those two months was spent setting up a public raport between Auguste and Damianos and convincing both sides’ councils. The next month had then been when they’d put everything into action, having the first ‘meeting’ and then the big fight a week later. And now. Two weeks and a day after Damen and Auguste’s fight and here he was, sitting at a hastily prepared table beside Damianos of Akielos and having to act as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

It feels like no time had passed at all between the last time Laurent had sat beside Damen and today. Even the weeks that seemed to drag by were erased from Laurent’s brain at the first ‘accidental’ touch Damen had subtly bestowed upon him at their reunion.

The ceremony was a rather bland affair, full of barely veiled dissatisfaction between both Akielon and Veretian camps and lots of roundabout conversations that subtly insult each others culture. Auguste’s council has made it down to Marlas in time, or at least half of them have - the half that Auguste trusts. Theomedes had brought an equal number of Kyros to attend the wedding, likely the Kyros who were entirely loyal to him based on the information Laurent and Damen had gathered months ago. It was probably either a purposeful move to push the other kyroi into doing something or moving their plans ahead, or it was an accident but it’ll likely make things both easier and harder to control later down the line.

Luckily Meniados wasn’t here, but Berenger was. He’d been the one selected to officiate, due to his cultural knowledge and legal standing and when Laurent had made it up to the altar where Damen was standing Berenger had given him a subtle wink so he must have been informed of at least some of the real story going on.

Laurent hadn’t known it at the time but the first Official meeting between Damen and Auguste on the field at Marlas had had an ulterior motive more advanced than the one that had been originally planned. Laurent found out what they’d been negotiating when the morning of the impromptu wedding came and Auguste dropped off a large paper wrapped package and a letter from Damen. When he’d opened the gift it was to find pristine Veretian garments in the purest white Laurent had ever seen. He had no clue how they’d manage to keep it so safe and clean in the mess of spring, but it was spotless. It had been weaved with silver thread and it subtly sparkled in the sunlight of the early afternoon. It had less laces than Laurent had gotten used to wearing and allowed for far easier movement and it was absolutely the most beautiful outfit Laurent had ever seen.

The letter from Damen had been short and simple but no less enchanting.

_‘See you at the altar, Xenos’_

The day had started with fair weather and continued to stay as such all the way into the night. Though, if it had been particularly cold Laurent doesn’t think he’d feel it in the crowded space of Marlas’ dining hall.  Even through the ceremony Laurent hadn’t felt even the slightest moment where he was hot or cold. Not from the weather, anyways.

Berenger had had to mix the traditional Royal vows for both families into something that wasn’t awful or repetitive and what he’d finally come up with had been a masterpiece in diplomacy. Even Laurent had been able to see that through all the flowery wording and political jargon that he hadn’t been familiar with. In the end Laurent and Damen hadn’t even had to exchange vows, simply saying ‘I do’ and signing their name on the dotted line, which Laurent found as a small blessing. He has no clue what he’d say in this situation, as Charls. And anything Laurent could actually say as himself vow-wise would ruin their entire plan.

All morning he’s been hit with the realization that it isn’t actually _him_ marrying Damen. Sure, physically it’s him, but everyone else thinks he’s Charls. It would be Charls name on all the official papers, everyone in the Akielon court would call him Charls, Damen would have to call him Charls. In front of everyone. He’d had a small breakdown over the loss in identity and the strength of the longing that had welled up inside him at the thought of announcing who was really marrying the Prince of Akielos.

Turns out Damen hadn’t thought about those things as much as Laurent had. It was after the ceremony when the Veretian council and Akielon kyroi were supposed to be giving their well wishes for the strength of the marriage that Damen had first slipped up. He’d called Laurent by his name in front of Makedon, who’d seemed perplexed for a second before Auguste had jumped in and saved the both of them.

Auguste had explained quickly, in such a rehearsed way that Laurent knew that Auguste had been expecting Damen to potentially spill the beans, that most second sons of Vere were named Charls. He told Makedon that it was a tradition, long standing in the family, and that most went by their second name to help differentiate. He claimed that his younger brother hadn’t liked his second name as a boy and so he’d just gone by Charls. Which is when Laurent jumped in and implied that in the spirit of the alliance between Vere and Akielos he’d granted Damianos, sorry, Damen, the use of his second name which was Laurent.

Later, when Makedon had gotten a begrudging agreement to a toast that night from Laurent and then scarpered off, Laurent had given Auguste a supremely grateful look and Auguste had just winked at him. Damen had been sheepish about it but Laurent had been quick to forgive the small mistake when Damen’s dimple showed itself in his sheepish grin.

Berenger wasn’t the only one who had to find a middle ground between two cultures, and Auguste had had to argue for the entire two weeks of the wedding negotiations for the council to not be present at the consummation. He claimed it useless, considering both parties were men and could therefore not get pregnant with heirs, and a large insult to Akielon sensibilities. The Akielons were an extremely private group of people, and kept all their sexual activities behind closed doors and in the spirit of fairness and helping to solidify the alliance then they were just going to have to find a middle ground between the two extremes.

The council had officially agreed to stay out of the room, instead sitting out in the hallway and having a servant fetch the sheets afterwards to be presented as proof. Auguste had even loudly claimed that some of his personal guard were to be there too to make sure nothing untoward happened to his younger brother. Laurent isn’t sure how he’s supposed to be able to show his face after everything.

And all thought of the--- consummation is making his palms sweat. He puts his goblet gently down on the table so as not to spill any wine on himself and ruin the outfit. He’d agreed to exactly one cup of wine, having toasted with water most of the night, and is only halfway through it.

Kastor hadn’t shown up for the ceremony or the following feast Auguste had put on for both sides in and outside of Marlas. But Elon and Aktis were both there, likely acting as eyes and ears for their master. Laurent spent most of the night periodically ducking and hiding away from both the soldiers and Meniados, who had been well into his cups by the time he’d made it up to the head table to give them his well wishes.

Laurent had managed to pull his hair out of the intricate braid it had been pulled into for the occasion - by a particularly violent old woman who typically ran the kitchens at Marlas and who had a small army of grandchildren and was such very familiar with all the ‘in’ braid styles. He kept his hair down and easily ducked behind it when he needed to, a golden circlet sitting as an foreign weight around the crown of his head. When his hair didn’t provide sufficient protection he took to ducking partially behind Damen’s large shoulder, as if his attention had been pulled away for a moment.

Damen worked to keep the attention on himself and distract from Laurent’s hiding and it seemed to be a task far too easy to achieve. He was radiant the entire day and night, despite holding the bright smile and dimple at bay and having a mostly serious expression on his face on par with the occasion. He’s wearing a stark white chiton, which Laurent has never seen on him before, edged with gold, and his deep red chlamys draped in its typical single-shoulder cape. There’s a crown of golden laurels nestled in his curls and it glints in the firelight of the torches in the hall. His voice is deep and commanding, but friendly, and many people came up to speak to him.

He’s the champion of the Akielon camp, their darling prince that had won the war with a single sword fight and, as Laurent has heard whispered, managed to snag a foreign beauty as an extra prize. None seemed to care that Laurent was a man, focusing mainly on the fact that Delpha was once again Akielon territory and most of the men and women were able to return home to their families with minimal fuss, especially after years of tension and border skirmishes.

Damen shifts his hand and subtly brushes his knuckles along Laurent’s thigh under the table before bringing it up and taking Laurent’s cup to downing the rest of the wine. Laurent is about to halfheartedly protest that he’d been drinking that, you animal, when someone shouts from across the crowded hall. It’s a bluecoat, Laurent can’t see their face from this far away but he can hear them crystal clear.

“To bed!”

It quickly becomes a chant. Crossing between the Veretians on the right of the hall and the Akielons on the left. Both sides pick it up with rigor, their tense energy being used with fervor and Laurent is suddenly wishing he had more wine so he could chug it down. His hands have started to shake.

Auguste and Theomedes stand in tandem, both wave men forward and the hall erupts into cheers, the animosity between the two countries forgotten by most of the guests in favor of teasing the new couple - both sides high on drink and the separate victories of their Prince’s. Laurent watches Elon and Aktis slip out of the hall in the uproar, and Lydos, Pallas, and Nikandros came forward to steal Damen from his seat. He’s dragged down the long line of the hall to laughter and jeers from both sides before being pulled into one of the hallways around the corner. Laurent is next and Lazar throws a looping arm over his shoulders and hooks it around his neck. Rochert and Huet laugh as they jostle him down the same path. Laurent doesn’t have to play up the genuine nervousness that overcomes him, and his hesitation hopefully shows as incredulity over what he’s about to be ‘forced’ to do for the sake of his brother’s alliance.

The surprisingly supportive sounds of the hall slowly fade away and Laurent stumbles when he sees three of the seven councilmen seated on wooden chairs in the hallway outside his door. Pallas and Lydos pass by on their way back to the hall and Lydos gives Laurent a rather exaggerated wink. Laurent stumbles again as Lazar stops to follow the path the two Akielons make down the hallway with his eyes, almost choking as Lazar’s arm blocks his throat when he tries to continue forward but Lazar doesn’t. Lazar gives a low whistle, just in time to turn back around and see Nikandros exit the room and head towards them.

Nik’s lips twitch and he whispers a ‘good luck, pet’ as he passes. Lazar pouts at him.

“You’re a lucky bastard, Doctor.” He whispers in Laurent’s ear. “To be surrounded by such lovely specimens in the near future.” Laurent gives him an incredulous look.

“I’m married now, you dolt.” Lazar shrugs, unrepentant.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t look. Who was that one, with the olive skin and the short curls?”

Laurent frowns.

“Pallas?”

“ _Pallas,”_ Lazar practically moans. “Gods, go be with your new husband, I’m going to be drinking that man down like the finest of wines.” And without another word he turns and leaves Laurent in front of his door. Huet and Rochert laugh, sitting down on the ground across the hall and saluting up at Laurent. Laurent ignores the three councilmen and slips inside, feeling a brief sense of triumph as he locks the door with a click behind himself.

“Hello.”

Laurent’s stomach explodes in butterflies but he keeps his face calm as he turns around, leaning back casually against the door to see Damen standing near the fireplace, putting a log on top of the already burning flames.

“Hello, lover.” Laurent said surprisingly smoothly, until Damen snorts and stands up to give Laurent a wide toothy grin. Laurent helplessly smiles back, feeling his face start to heat.

“Hello Damen.” He whispers and Damen’s grin softens.

“Come here. Let me see you.”

Laurent does as he’s bid, slowly stepping forward till he’s mere feet in front of Damen. His heart is already pounding in his chest. Damen doesn’t kiss him though or even reach out to touch him in any way. Instead he looks Laurent slowly up and down, his eyes meeting Laurent’s with a soft look.

“I had wondered if they’d get it finished in time. I asked Auguste quite late.”

Laurent looks down at the outfit, running his hands lightly over the soft fabric.

“You asked Auguste for a wedding outfit for me?” He asks and Damen gives him a wry grin.

“I wasn’t sure if they’d have anything suitable, or if you’d have even thought of it. It wasn’t the only thing I asked Auguste for.” He continues, reaching into the folds of his chiton and pulling his hand out. He steps forward until there’s only a few inches of space between them, reaching out with his empty hand to grab one of Laurent’s and bringing it, palm up, under his closed fist. A warm weight settles in his hand and when Damen pulls his hand away Laurent is left seeing a small gold band sitting delicately in the middle of his palm.

He looks up at Damen with wide eyes but Damen’s smiling softly down at the ring, plucking it from Laurent’s hand and flipping it before slipping the ring onto Laurent’s ring finger.

“I know that technically, as it was a political arrangement, there were no rings exchanged. Especially because everything was put together so fast, but I felt like you deserved a ring and I wanted to give it to you when it was just us. So that it’s just between the two of us and you didn’t have to act. It’s made from one of my chiton pins - a symbol of my house. It used to be a lion, “ He brings a hand up to tap at one of his shoulders, where a golden lion pin holds part of his chiton in place. “But I had it melted down into two rings and something else.”

“Something else.” Laurent says, his heart in his throat as he looks down at the gold on his ring finger as it glints in the firelight. Damen pulls a small package out of the folds of his chiton and Laurent’s tempted to ask what else he’s been storing in there all day long but Damen’s holding it out to him and he gently takes it.

He unravels the small bundle of fabric and nestled inside is another thin gold band, this one big enough to go around his wrist. He wordlessly looks up and this time Damen’s looking at his face.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to wear a ring, or if you’d want to hide it on a chain or somewhere else. If you didn’t want to wear the ring then I wanted there to be something you could wear publicly that people wouldn’t question. It’s made from the same pin.” Damen shifts the neckline of his chiton and Laurent sees a small chain with a matching gold ring sitting just above his heart.

“You’re not going to wear the ring?” He finds himself asking and there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice that he can’t mask. Damen brings a hand up to his cheek, pausing before it touches skin and looking at Laurent for permission. Laurent leans his head to the side. The warmth of Damen’s hand on his cheek makes his heart stutter.

“I had to hide that I even had them. But I’ll wear it if you want me to.”

“It’s… It’s between us.” Laurent reaches up till his hand is resting on Damen’s chest, the two bands shining against Damen’s skin. “Not anyone else, just the two of us. I-- I want you to wear it. Even as people speculate and guess over it, I’ll know what it really means..” He brings his eyes up to Damen’s and Damen looks between them for a moment before dipping his head. As Laurent moves to pull the chain up and over his head his eyes catch on Damen’s laurel crown. He gently pulls that off before pulling off the chain, not wanting it to catch.

Damen takes the laurels from him, throwing them haphazardly onto a nearby couch and Laurent gapes at him. Damen laughs at the expression, reaching out to gently lift the circlet from Laurent’s hair. Laurent gives him a mildly warning look, which makes him laugh again and he walks to the couch before slowly placing the circlet beside his discarded laurels. He returns to Laurent and Laurent unclasps the chain, letting Damen’s ring fall into his palm. He holds his hand out and Damen dutifully places his left hand in Laurent’s right. Laurent slides the ring onto his finger and before he can pull his hands away Damen snatches one and brings it to his lips, kissing his knuckles softly.

Laurent relaxes a small amount, letting Damen pull him by the arm and bring him to the bed. They sit like they did in Damen’s tent, angled towards each other with their knees brushing together and dangling off the side. Laurent’s bed is taller than Damen’s bed-nest had been and Laurent finds his feet barely brush the ground when he’s sitting like this.

“Can I kiss you?” Damen asks and Laurent can’t find the words so he nods. His heart is pounding in his chest almost painfully, despite the fact that he knows what it’s like to kiss Damen already. And he’s never kissed anyone else. Damen’s hands stay on his lap, but he brings his face in close and Laurent closes his eyes only to open them again when he feels a faint pressure on his cheek instead of on his lips. He feels the faint huff of Damen’s laughter before Damen leans in and brings their lips together.

It’s exactly like how kissing Damen had been the first time, warm and soft and so very very nice but there’s a significant part of Laurent that can’t seem to relax like he’d done then. _That_ part of him keeps trying to make him think of things and places and a person he’d rather not think about. But the information sits there, silently between he and Damianos, and it doesn’t take long for Damen to notice. He leans away, concerned, and Laurent finds he has to look away.

“Laurent. Laurent we don’t have to.” He starts and Laurent laughs at the absurdity of it. That the virgin is telling him they don’t have to have sex.

“There is a group of men outside who disagree.”

“Fuck them.” Laurent turns to look at Damen, shocked. Damen isn’t one for swearing, Laurent’s hardly heard him mutter a single curse. “You’re not comfortable, you don’t want to do this. We’re not going to do this.”

Laurent shakes his head.

“It’s not that simple.”

“So explain it to me.”

Laurent bites his lip, frowning. He really doesn’t want to, but when he looks down at his hands and sees the golden band resting there he sighs.

“Just between us.” He begins, dreading the conversation, and Damen glances down at their rings before nodding. “My… Uncle is remarkably similar to Prince Auguste’s.” Damen holds out his left hand and Laurent wordlessly takes it, grateful for the small amount of grounding contact. Damen’s palm is warm in his. He always seems to warm compared to Laurent.

“Not only with the killing of close family members for personal gain.” He says the words slowly, waiting to see if Damen understands but he doesn’t seem to catch on and so and he leans away, curling in on himself but still holding Damen’s hand. “I was lucky that Paschal took me under his wing when he did and that my medical training took me away from Chastillon and therefore away from my uncle. I was 14 when Auguste left for the war. Which was just on the cusp of becoming too old, but no one suspected and I was often left behind with my uncle long before I was fourteen and---” Damen abruptly stands, cutting Laurent off and turning around, away from Laurent. Laurent’s hand feels cold from where Damen had yanked his hand away and Laurent looks down at his lap, curling in on himself even more.

He doesn’t look up at Damen, not wanting to see disgust or something worse on his face, but he can’t help but cast a glance when Damen starts muttering Akielon curses. Damen turns around, his face thunderous and Laurent leans away instinctively. He’s never seen Damen this angry. Not even when Orlant had him at gunpoint, or when Jord had wanted to pull his sword on Laurent back at their first meeting. And it’s all because Laurent kept this from him. Now he knows. He knows who’s he’s married, and who’s he’s almost slept with.Someone-- tainted.

“How did you get through the stones.”

Laurent blinks.

“Excuse me?”

Damen storms over to him, sitting down on the bed and grabbing both of Laurent’s hands in his.

“The stones, how did you travel through them.”

“Well I--I just touched them, but why---”

“I’m going through them. We’re in Marlas, they’re in the forest near here.”

“Where are you hoping to go?” Laurent asks, wondering if he’s really trying to get away from Laurent so desperately as to try and travel to a completely different time.

“To whichever year you came from. I”m going to kill him for even _thinking_ he could do something like that to you.” He fumes and Laurent’s mouth falls open.

“I-- Damen I don’t think it works like that.”

Damen’s lips pull back in a soundless snarl. “ _I don’t care_. We’ll find a way. And on the way there we can tell the Veretian council to go fuck themselves. Because there’s no way I’m forcing you into another situation like that without a choice. It’s a half Akielon wedding, consummation isn’t nearly so big a thing in my country. I’ll personally tell them myself.” He moves as though to stand but Laurent latches his hands onto Damen’s wrists and Damen freezes.

“As amusing as it would be for you to tell three ancient men to fuck off, we can’t actually do that. We’re on the right path, getting both Akielos and Vere allied. We’ve come this far, Damen, if we fuck it up now what are we going to do?”

“But--”

Laurent physically moves into Damen’s space, putting a hand over his mouth.

“We don’t need to cause an national incident just when you’ve managed to win peace for your country. I don’t… I don’t feel forced, here with you. I just-- I just feel as though things have been happening so fast around me but I feel stuck in place. You… When you kiss me it feels as though I start to move again.” He admits lowly and the tension in Damen’s body slowly drains. Laurent let’s his hand fall and releases Damen’s wrist from the other.

“Are you sure I can’t tell at least one council member to go fuck themselves?” Damen finally asks after a moment of silence and Laurent can’t help but laugh. He laughs for far too long, especially when it’s not all that funny, but the entire situation and the tension that’s been building inside him breaks down and goes into his laughter. He’s almost crying by the time he manages to calm down and he leans forward, his forehead resting in the middle of Damen’s chest as he catches his breath.

“No, you cannot go tell any of the councilmen to go fuck themselves, Damianos.” Laurent chides, breathlessly, but when he looks up it’s to see Damen watching him with the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

“I like it when you smile. I don’t think you do it nearly often enough.” He says softly and Laurent feels his face flush. One of Damen’s hands comes up and brushes a lock of Laurent’s hair behind his ear. Laurent tilts his face up, expectantly, and Damen looks between his determined eyes. “Are you sure, _Xenos_?”

Laurent grits his teeth for a moment in frustration, now that most of his doubt has faded away and his apprehension at what Damen’s reaction would be once he found out, he finds that he’s determined to erase the memories as thoroughly as Prince Auguste has been erasing his own uncle from all the history books. He moves swiftly, leaning forward and swinging a leg over Damen’s lap so he’s straddling his thighs, facing him like he’d wanted to do back in Damen’s tent. Damen’s eyes widen at the change in position.

“Stop thinking so much, _soldier_. That’s my job.” He chides as Damen’s hands automatically come up to hold onto his hips. Damen opens his mouth but Laurent leans in closely, letting their noses touch.

“Attend me.”

Damen takes to the orders with no more hesitation, his hands coming up to the laces on the front of Laurent’s white jacket. He looks at Laurent questioningly and Laurent gives a small nod, his stomach flipping as Damen slowly starts to pull the laces free.

The jacket can’t be taken off until the front is completely unlaced, as well as the sleeves, and while Damen slowly plucks at the front Laurent doesn’t even bother to remove the laces of the sleeves. Instead he unties the ends and then simply loosens them enough that the jacket will be able to be slid off. Damen leans forward to rest their foreheads together as he continues down the lines of the jacket and Laurent’s stomach jumps, his legs tensing around Damen’s for a second before relaxing.

Damen keeps their gazes locked as he pushes the jacket off and it falls to the floor revealing the soft cotton undershirt Laurent has been wearing underneath it. Laurent has a brief thought to how the jacket will no longer be the pristine white it had been this morning but the thought is quickly forgotten when Damen abruptly stands. Laurent’s hands scramble and latch onto his shoulders but Damen’s hands have grabbed his thighs and he’s walking without the slightest hint of exertion. A rush of unexpected heat travels up Laurent’s body.

Damen slowly kneels, placing Laurent down on the footstool near the couch where their crowns are resting and Laurent curiously let’s go of Damen’s shoulders so he’s completely seated. He and Damen look at each other before Damen reaches forward and starts to unlace the strings of Laurent’s boots, which are knee high and in a soft, buttery, cream colored leather. He pulls the boot off, throwing it away without a look as to where it would end up. In retaliation Laurent lifts his other foot and plants it on Damen’s shoulder, shoving him gently away till Laurent’s leg is fully extended. Damen’s eyes are dark as he silently starts on the second boot and Laurent feels his face flush but works to keep a straight face.

When the boots are off, Damen leans up on his knees till his head is even with Laurent’s and he hesitates only for a second before pulling Laurent into a kiss, a guiding hand coming to rest on the back of Laurent’s neck.

They lose themselves for a moment, kissing slowly, and Laurent forgets what reason they’re even in the room for. His mind is full of Damen’s lips, and the reassuring weight of Damen’s hand on his neck as they slowly explore each other’s mouths. It’s Damen who pulls him to the edge of the footstool, pulling his hand away from Laurent’s neck to guide his thighs into wrapping around Damen’s hips. Laurent goes, leaning away from the kiss to raise an eyebrow at Damen.

Damen grins, standing up and supporting Laurent with his hands under the thick of Laurent’s thighs again. Laurent gives him what he hopes is an unimpressed look and gets dropped unceremoniously on the bed in retaliation. He bounces once, twice, almost three times before managing to prop himself up on his elbows to watch as Damen slowly unravels the chlamys from his neck and let’s it fall to the floor. Damen leans down to undo his strappy sandals next, keeping his eyes locked with Laurent’s. He falls off balance briefly when he lifts his second foot up to be unlaced and Laurent lets out a short laugh. Damen gives him a playful glare that quickly melts away into a grin.

Damen crawls onto the bed beside Laurent, laying down on his side with his head propped up on one palm.  

“How do you want to do this.” He asks, reaching out with his other hand to grab Laurent’s right hand and linking their fingers together. Laurent focuses on the differences of their hands for a moment and how well his hand seems to fit into Damen’s before looking up at Damen’s warm brown eyes. He lets himself fall back into the bed so he can use his free hand to tug at a stray curl that’s falling into Damen’s eyes.

“Kiss me.”

Damen chuckles and pulls their joined hands up so he can kiss the back of Laurent’s hand.

“I’m serious, Laurent. How do you want to do this.”

“Surely you’ve got some idea about how this goes.” Laurent starts, but Damen says nothing so he sighs. Damen presses another kiss to the back of Laurent’s hand and Laurent focuses on that instead of trying to look Damen in the eyes. Despite himself he’s feeling uneasy. Embarrassed, really.

“With- with him it was always the same. Face down, underneath him. Quiet. If I made a sound he made it worse. If I--- If I came he made it worse. I’m not… I’m not sure I’ll be entirely able to,” he pauses to swallow thickly and Damen’s thumb rubs back and forth on his hand. “To let go. It’s. Since I got too old for him I’ve never gone to bed with anyone else. And anything I tried to do myself just made me feel worse.” He finally manages to bring his eyes up to meet Damen’s. His lips quirk into a self-deprecating smirk. “You’ve probably just managed to marry one of the most fucked up people in all of Vere. A Veretian doctor from the future with a murderous and pedophilic family history.”

He tries for levity but falls severely short and Damen’s expression stays infuriatingly calm.

“I disagree.”

Laurent can’t help but to roll his eyes.

“Damianos. I come directly from Auguste’s line. It’s quite literally in my family history.”

“But I don’t think that makes you ‘fucked up’. You’re Veretian, yes but you’ve helped to garner a new age of peace between my country and yours. You’re a Doctor, yes and an entirely brilliant one. The future thing, I’m not entirely certain what to think of that except that it gives you an advantage like my skills in sword-fighting give me an advantage.” he shrugs. “It’s all in perspective. You’ve never lived in this time, but you’ve lived in the future. You know what we’re capable of and you can use that knowledge, which you have been and you’ve been very successful I’d say. The family history, well, it seems that murder is just something that’s been going around.”

Laurent chokes back a shocked laugh at the statement and Damen grins for a second before his face turns serious again.

“I know it seems like everything’s against you, and that maybe you’re going to be crushed under the weight of it all. But you’ve been pushing back against it for months now. You’re doing something impossible, Laurent, something that no one else has ever tried--”

“To the best of our knowledge.” Damen tilts his head, granting Laurent’s interruption.

“To the best of our knowledge, yes. And here you are. Acting like a Veretian Prince to help your ancestor and to help me align two countries and take down two traitorous plots. That’s… That’s incredible. You’re brilliant. You’re not broken, you’re not ‘fucked up’. You’re surviving,” Damen grins, “Hell, you’re practically _thriving_ and it’s an entirely admirable show of strength.”

Damen releases his hand to brush some of the hair from Laurent’s face, looking down at where he’s laying on top of the crisp blue sheets.

“And now you’re not alone. You’ve got me in your corner, _Xenos_. No matter what. I--” Damen cuts himself off, his face lighting up with an idea. He sits up and slides from the bed without another word, and Laurent once again props himself up on his elbows, questioningly.

“Damen, what---”

Damen turns around from where he’d been over by the couch and Laurent notices that beside their discarded crowns there’s a leather belt with a sword strapped inside a sheath. Damen’s ceremonial sword from the earlier wedding ceremony, he must have taken it off when Pallas and Lydos had first brought him to the room. Damen pulls the sword from it, leaving the leather on the couch and walking back to the bed. Laurent sits up fully, squinting at the sword for a moment before looking up at Damen as he stops right in front of Laurent.

He abruptly kneels down on one knee, holding the sword outstretched and horizontally in front of him with both hands. He lifts it like an offering on open palms to Laurent. His head is bowed, but he tilts it to look up at Laurent with blazing eyes and a determined expression on his face.  

“I, Damianos, Crown Prince and Future Ruler of Akielos, do solemnly swear on the steel that I wield before me that if ever I raise a hand, word, or weapon against you that this sword shall pierce my heart in retaliation. I swear on the blood that runs in my veins, as it has been passed down to me from generations of Kings and Queens that you have not just my word, but my body as protection should you ever have need of it. I swear on my life and my soul that I will be faithful and loyal to you in matters of life and limb and that I will never bear arms for anyone against you. I swear, finally, on my heart. To love you with everything I have and all that I am, through any and every trial wordly or otherwise. That you shall be mine, but that I shall also be equally yours. And so you have my word, my body and blood, my life and soul, and my heart before you. Do you accept this oath?”

Laurent’s eyes are wide and his mouth opens and closes before he leans forward and haltingly puts his hands above Damen’s on the sword. He gently lifts the sword from Damen’s hands after an expectant eyebrow raise and he slides down from the bed to kneel before Damen on both knees. He lets the sword rest across his thighs as he looks up at Damen. He helplessly smiles, touched and shocked by such a gesture - by all the gesture’s Damen’s made for him since coming into this room tonight.

“I do accept your oath. Damen. How could I not?”

Damen’s face slowly splits into a wide happy grin and Laurent all but tosses the sword aside to reach up and pull Damen down into a kiss that’s all teeth. They’re both smiling too widely and Laurent finds himself laughing against Damen’s lips. Damen pulls away just enough to kiss him on both cheeks and then his forehead. When Laurent can see him again he reaches out and gently rubs his thumb in Damen’s dimple.

Damen reaches out with a large hand and pulls Laurent into a hug, wrapping both arms tightly around Laurent’s back and Laurent wraps his arms around Damen’s neck, turning his head so their cheeks are touching.

“If I was able to, I’d kill him for you. You’re uncle. And I’d do it gladly.” Damen says softly against his ear and Laurent gently knocks their temples together.

“You can’t kill him. But you can help me forget him. Erase all my memories of him so that he’s not standing in between us. I don’t--- I don’t want to think about him or what happened. Not when I’m with you.” Laurent admits, bolstered by the fact that Damen can’t see his face or his expression right now. Damen’s hands slowly rub up and down his back in a soothing motion.

“Alright.” Damen accepts easily, his voice thick, and Laurent leans back to look at him. Damen’s eyes are shining but he looks determined and one of his hands leaves Laurent’s back to come up so he can smooth a finger over the furrowed skin between Laurent’s brows. Laurent let’s his face relax. “How do you want to go about that? We have all the time in the world to figure this out. Together.”

Laurent catches Damen’s hand before it can be returned to his back and he holds in in both of his. He looks directly into Damen’s eyes as he pulls the hand in and kisses the ring that’s shining on Damen’s finger. The matching ring to his. “Take me to bed, Damianos.”

Damianos readily obeys, standing and pulling Laurent up with him before they sit back down on the bed. Laurent reclines himself and tugs Damen so he’s leaning over top of him, hands on either side of Laurent’s waist and propping himself so he’s not crushing Laurent beneath him. He looks mildly unsure.

“You’re alright with me… On top?” He asks and Laurent loops his arms around Damen’s neck to pull him in closer. His body is radiating heat and Laurent finds himself drawn to it like a cat when it’s found a spot of sun.

“I can see you, Damianos. So long as I can see you, I don’t think I’ll get lost.” Damen opens his mouth but Laurent moves a hand to cover it. “I’ll let you know if I get uncomfortable or if I don’t like what’s going on. When have you ever known me to keep my opinions to myself?” He teases and feels Damen huff underneath his palm. He pulls his hand away and finds Damen smiling.

Damen leans down to kiss him and once again Laurent let’s himself go. Their lips come together softly, slowly. Damen alternates between short, closed-mouth kisses and long, languid, open-mouth kisses in a pattern Laurent can’t distinguish. He pulls Laurent’s bottom lip between his teeth and Laurent silently gasps, his back arching infinitesimally upwards. Damen’s hands are busy holding himself up, but Laurent’s are free to wander and he let’s them. His fingers catch in the folds of Damen’s chiton, wandering along the edges of where the chiton gives way to smooth, dark skin.

There are plenty of differences between Damen and Byron. The main one being that Damianos is one of the most honorable men Laurent has ever met and his uncle is most certainly not. But Laurent can mark others. Damen’s hands are bigger, and warmer. He’s got calluses, likely from sword fighting and other weapons training. He smells of spices and fruit and fresh cotton and oils. He almost always smells of the spices and the cotton. He’s bigger, sturdier above Laurent, and he moves so gently but holds onto Laurent just as tightly as Laurent holds onto him. They lay like that for minutes upon minutes, just kissing. Laurent finds he enjoys the weight of Damen above him, he doesn’t find it cloying or terrifying or anything but warm.

And yet, despite the differences, and despite everything that hinges upon this night and this entire plan, Laurent still can’t let go of some of the tension from before. Some unnamed and unsorted worry or anxiousness that sits along his spine like a second skin.

“Laurent,” Damen mutters against his lips and Laurent bites at Damen’s lip in answer. Damen, in retaliation, decides to deviate from his post and his lips make a slow trail down Laurent’s jaw and to the soft skin of his neck. Laurent jumps when the flat of a hot tongue glides from his collarbone and halfway up his neck. Then there is a line of open mouthed kisses being placed upon that same line Damen’s tongue had travelled and one part of Laurent’s tightly held tension releases itself. Just a smidge.

Laurent’s hand slides through the shorter curls at the nape of Damen’s neck and travels further up into thicker curl territory. He holds Damen’s head tightly against his neck, miniscule shivers running up and down his back as Damen spends an inordinate amount of time exploring the skin of his neck above the low collar of his thin cotton shirt.

“D-Damen.” He stutters and Damen makes a noise of acknowledgement. “Damen.” He’s more firm this time and Damen pulls himself away from his task to look up at Laurent. Laurent brings one of his legs up, bent at the knee and digs it obnoxiously into Damen’s ribs. Damen laughs and leans away from the pressure. Laurent let’s Damen’s hair go so he can recline completely on the sheets. His gaze is lidded at he looks at the man above him. He feels the tension in himself but works to ignore it.

“You still haven’t finished attending to me, soldier.” He breaths unsteadily and Damen leans back so he’s kneeling between Laurent’s legs. His hands hover above Laurent’s thighs for a moment as Damen looks up at him and Laurent bends his other knee so they’re both up and caging Damen between them. He makes no other move and Damen slowly lowers his hands so that they’re flat on Laurent’s knees first before letting them glide higher up Laurent’s thighs. He pushes Laurent’s legs flat down as he goes and his left hand stays in the middle of Laurent’s thigh while his right hand continues along the line of laces to where they’re tied up at the waistband. He taps his index finger, once, twice, on the little bow that rests there and Laurent tilts his hips infinitesimally in as much encouragement as he’s willing to show. Damen must feel the movement, though, for he begins to unhurriedly pull the bow apart and pluck the laces from their eyelets.

His left hand is a warm weight on Laurent’s thigh, but Laurent can hardly focus on it as Damen’s nimble fingers move gradually down his leg. When he gets to the shin he lets go of Laurent’s thigh in order to twist himself and fully pull the lace free. He drops it off the side of the bed and Laurent rolls his ankle and enjoys the suddenly unrestricted movement of his leg. He felt like he’d been hardly able to move all day and it never took long for any of his limbs to tingle with restricted blood flow. The skin of his newly freed leg feels hot, but whether that’s from the sudden flow of blood or from Damen’s trailing fingers he’ll never know.

Damen twists himself back around and begins the arduous process of undoing the second legs lacing. Laurent loudly sighs, putting forth a show of annoyance to hide his growing apprehension. He’s never been fully naked infront of someone. Byron had liked to fuck while both of them were entirely clothed, it gave him a way to control and restrict Laurent’s movements (and likely helped him picture Laurent as being younger than his body betrayed). Laurent opens his eyes and takes a deep breath in, breathing in the spice-cotton scent of Damianos and pulling himself back into the moment. Damen has stopped unlacing him, and is instead watching him with an open expression.

“Okay?” He inquires, his voice soft and Laurent nods.

“You’re taking too long.” He tries as a distraction and Damen graciously takes the bait. His lips quirk into a grin.

“I’m not the one tied with enough laces to braid a rope and escape from the window.” He answers back and Laurent huffs. Damen looks down at his thigh, where he’s unlaced not even a quarter of Laurent’s leg. “How attached to these pants are you?” he asks, an unidentifiable note in his voice and Laurent actually frowns at him.

“Pardon?” He pushes himself into a sitting position to see Damen bite his lip and tilt his head to look calculatingly at Laurent’s clothes. Damen slides from the bed once more and walks away, across the room completely and over to where Laurent’s writing desk sits. He grabs something from off the top of the desk before walking back to the bed and this time Laurent can identify the look in his eyes as mischievous. “What did you just grab?”

Damen shrugs, one knee coming to rest on the bed as he leans forward with his free hand to gently push Laurent back into a lying position.

“Damen.” He warns.  

He moves so quickly Laurent can only see the faintest of glints of firelight on clean metal, but the sound of tearing fabric is easily identifiable and Laurent watches as Damen uses what must be laurent’s letter opener to cut a small strip of Laurent’s pants on the other side of the eyelets, right along a seam line. His mouth falls open as Damen tosses the letter opener, he’s really going to have to get Damen to stop throwing stuff around, and then uses both hands to grab the fabric and _tug._ The pants split along the seam with a loud ripping sound and then laurent is left in only his thin cotton shirt, which barely covers anything.

_“Damianos.”_

Damen grins, tossing the fabric away and raising an eyebrow. Laurent sits up, glad when the shirt falls in such a way as to hide anything above mid-thigh.

“You just told me you had this outfit specifically commissioned for today, giving who knows how many people grief over trying to get the fabric and complete everything in time, only to become impatient on _the last part and quite literally tear it from my body. What is wrong with you?_ ” Laurent hisses in Akielon as he smacks Damen’s arm but Damen only laughs.

_“I paid for the outfit already, and I didn’t see it lasting more than a day anyways.”_

_“What if I liked this outfit?_ ” He didn’t, really. It was gorgeous, but so uncomfortable. “ _What if I was attached? We got married while I wore this outfit! What if I wanted to wear it again, you giant animal?”_

Damen shrugs, looking smug. _“I’ll have another made. But I know you weren’t ever going to wear it again.”_

“You asked if I was attached.”

“Only as a test. See if you were quick enough to see what my plan was.” He’s grinning and Laurent smacks him again. Damen doesn’t even flinch.

“You’re an imbecile.” he snaps, but it’s clear he’s not actually angry.

“Ah, _Xenos_ . That may be true. But now I’m _your_ imbecile.”

Technically, he’s Charls’ imbecile. But Laurent doesn’t want to bring that up and ruin whatever light mood they’ve slipped into. He can’t even joke that he doesn’t want an imbecile, because he’s already become far too attached to Damianos and it scares him sometimes. He’s no longer sure if he’ll entirely be able to leave Damen behind. Not after this. Not after everything.

Perhaps he can bring Damen with him through the stones? No. That’s entirely too selfish. Damen has a kingdom to run and exceptionally historic actions to complete.

Laurent doesn’t know what his expression shows but it makes Damen turn serious. He brings a hand up to cup Laurent’s cheek. Laurent leans into it.

He could never ask Damen to leave his country. Not because Laurent is becoming _attached._ Damen has said they had all the time in the world to figure things out, together. But that’s not entirely true. Someday Laurent will go back through the stones. Someday he’ll leave Damianos, bright and happy Damianos, behind. He already knows it’s going to hurt. He can easily see himself falling in love with Damen, even deeper than their friendship is now.

The movement of Damen’s arm makes the shoulder of his chiton slip to the side and Laurent’s eyes catch on a lighter patch of skin. The scar from the bullet wound. He reaches out with a steady hand and brushes a single finger over the mark, a slightly ragged circle, from all those months ago.

“I’ve never had something heal that fast.”

Laurent startles at the words, having lost himself in his head, and Damen’s hand leaves his cheek to rest on top of Laurent’s exploring hand.

“You’ve never had a doctor as competent as me around.” He says, snark his first and instinctive reaction. Damen smiles down at him but doesn’t say anything else. Laurent brings his right hand up, leaving his left trapped under Damen’s, and a flash of gold catches his eye. There’s a lion pin, a copy of the one Damen said he’d had melted down to make the rings and bracelet, holding Damen’s chiton up and Laurent let’s his fingers trace its features.

He doesn’t look at Damen as he lightly pinches the top of the pin and begins pulling it from the fabric. He drops it on the floor in retaliation for all the things Damen has dropped, but Damen doesn’t seem to care. He likely tosses the pin around like he’d tossed his laurels. It makes a small thump amidst the discarded cape and clothing but Laurent hardly hears it. Half of Damen’s chest is now exposed and Laurent runs his hand along the newly revealed skin, marvelling in the difference between their skin tones for a moment before becoming distracted by the feel of Damen’s heart thumping rapidly beneath his fingertips.

He doesn’t think about it. He leans forward and brushes a soft kiss over the center of Damen’s chest - right over his racing heart - and his left hand is freed when Damen’s hand moves to instead rest on the back of Laurent’s neck. He looks up through his lashes but stays close, not looking away from Damen’s eyes as he pulls the other shoulder pin from Damen’s chiton and the entire thing falls to drape around his waist where the final pin is the only thing holding it in place. His hand moves to find it, but with all the fabric in the way he fumbles and Damen’s other hand comes to guide his hand. Together they remove the last pin.

Laurent won’t have Damen forever. But he can have this. They can have this.

Damen pulls Laurent into a kiss and Laurent tugs him so he’s no longer kneeling on the edge of the bed. He pushes at Damen till he’s sitting, naked, on the bed. Laurent carefully keeps his eyes on Damen’s face and has just a second of hesitation before he slings his thigh over Damen’s to straddle his legs again. He keeps distance between Damen’s hips and his own, but even the feel of Damen’s bare thighs beneath his is making his heart race. Damens hands slip underneath his loose shirt and one rests on the small of Laurent’s back while the other toys with the edges of the fabric.

Damen’s kisses become even more intoxicating. Dark, warm skin is everywhere. Surrounding Laurent, but it doesn’t feel like it’s caging him in. Like it’s backing him into a corner. It feels like he’s submerged himself into a warm bath and his muscles gratefully unlock and relax. Damen’s hand is a hot brand across his back, Damen’s thighs are strong and thick beneath him. Damen’s chest radiates heat and Damen’s mouth… Laurent gets lost in Damen’s mouth. Again. And again. And again.

It’s Damen who makes the first move, and it’s likely instinctual but Laurent easily goes along with it. Damen’s hand pulls him in close, and Laurent slides easily along Damen’s thighs closer and closer until there’s no space between them. Laurent gasps into Damen’s mouth at the feeling of their hips coming together. Even just from the kissing, Damianos is clearly very interested, and the feel of him and his excitement helps encourage Laurent from halfway to full hardness in return in a matter of moments.

He rolls his hips, just once, experimentally and Damen responds with a deep moan that vibrates in Laurent’s chest. The movement causes them to rub against each other again and Laurent can’t help himself from another slow roll. Damen’s hand tightens on his back and Laurent has a moment to feel like he’s falling before he realizes that Damen has rolled them so that Laurent is laying down.

“If you keep,” Damen begins in between wet kisses. “Doing that,” Laurent pushes their hips together, even from this angle, and Damen swears. “I’m not going to last.”

“Well move then.” He retorts, pushing at Damen’s shoulders until he can sit up. He doesn’t think about it. Doesn’t allow himself to. His hands reach down for the bottom of his shirt and he pulls it swiftly over his head, leaving him just as bare as Damianos. Damen’s breath catches and Laurent watches his eyes roam Laurent’s body appreciatively before their eyes meet. Damen leans in, brushing their noses together.

 _“Beautiful._ ” He murmurs in Akielon and Laurent can’t help himself from huffing. _“You are, Xenos. Completely breathtaking. You’re going to steal my kingdom out from under me, I can already tell.”_

“ _Now you’re just being ridiculous._ ”

Before Damen can say anything Laurent pushes him away. “Make yourself useful.”

“Useful?”

“We need oil, Damianos.”

“Ah… Why do we need oil?” Damen’s brows furrow and Laurent gives him a questioning look.

“Because we need something to-- to ease the way.” Laurent tries, but Damen still looks confused. “You can’t… You can’t just _stick it in,_ Damianos. Not between men. There has to be preparation.” Damen looks curious.

“Really?”

“Really.” Laurent says, exasperated. “Haven’t you ever had friends who’ve… Well, who’ve fucked? No one ever told you how it’s done?”

Damen frowns. “What people do in bed is entirely private. I’d never ask for that information, and they’d never tell it to me.” He says defensively and Laurent feels his lips twitch. “I think most people believe me to have been bedding people for years now. Why would they try to explain something like this to their crown prince? Besides, I’ve read some books. None of them spoke about… Preparation.”

Laurent can see a red tint on Damen’s cheeks. Damen’s not meeting his eyes, flustered.

“Have you really? I wasn’t aware you knew how to read.” he makes his tone bored, disbelieving and Damen finally looks over at him. Laurent’s face softens. “You said we’d figure this out together. So, I’ll educate you, and you’ll help me try to let go and forget. Someone has most definitely left oils of some kind in the room, either on the desk or the table in preparation for tonight. Let’s look for it.”

It takes them a frustratingly long time to get back to bed, and when they do manage to make it there Damen’s dropped the vial of oil twice and he’s tripped over one of Laurent’s discarded boots - serves him right for throwing them around. There had been a basket left on the floor beside the bed where there was a veritable surplus of different things that made even Damen blush at the implications.

Laurent carefully intructs Damen through the preparations and Damen delights in every slight reaction Laurent shows. He’s quick to learn - about everything. From the mechanics of what they’ll be doing to the exacts of how Laurent’s body reacts. He’s eager, but not in any way that foreshadows neglect of Laurent’s attentions. In fact, Damen seems to have made it his own personal goal to learn every inch of Laurent’s body with fastidious detail. He learns quickly which places to kiss, or where to touch and how to completely distract Laurent from the task at hand. This turns out to be useful, if not endlessly frustrating at first, when Laurent’s as prepared as he’s ever going to be and he decides it’s time to move on to the main event.

There’s no beating around the bush. There’s no sly way to undershadow or understate it. Damen is… Large. And not just in height or in mass but in every possible way. He is, Laurent is mostly unsurprised to realize, everywhere in proportion. This means their preparations have been rigorous, and more than anything Laurent has been used to in a while.

It would have taken him far longer to relax if Damen had not had at least three surefire ways of distracting Laurent handy. And when the time came for him to begin pushing inside he makes use of his new knowledge.

His lips went to Laurent’s neck, in the soft and sensitive part right at the junction where his neck meets his shoulder. One of his hands slowly trailed up and down his side from ribs down to hip and then back up again in such a featherlight touch as to send an overload of sensation to Laurent’s brain. When Damen is fully seated inside, the tops of his thighs supporting the bottoms of Laurent’s and no space between them for even air, he freezes and diverts all his focus and attentions on helping Laurent relax.

Despite their slow and very thorough groundwork Damen is _big_ and Laurent’s breathing catches with the burn of being stretched open. It feels like too much. Like he’s going to be split completely down the middle, or like he’ll come completely untethered and have nothing to hold him down anymore. Nothing to keep him on the ground. But somehow Damen doesn’t move. Not even the slightest twitch of his hips, and gradually Laurent’s body can relax. Damen whispers soothing things in Akielon in his ear, things which went in one ear and right out the next with the focus Laurent had on keeping himself here - in this moment and not elsewhere.

“Damen.” Damen stops whispering and Laurent shakily brings his hands up to grab onto Damen’s biceps. Or as much of them as he can grab. Damen pulls himself up and away from Laurent’s neck only so far as to be able to meet Laurent’s eyes. Laurent makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and tries to roll his hips. “Move.” the _gently_ goes unspoken, but Laurent knows Damen hears it anyways.

When Damen pulls out and slowly pushes back in it’s Damen who’s breath catches in his throat.

It’s slow going, and Damen is ever cautious to the point that Laurent wonders just where the man’s determination must come from because it seems boundless and always present in everything he does. Laurent doesn’t even notice at first that they’ve found a rhythm between them until he rolls his hips at just the right time with one of Damen’s thrusts and his body wordlessly jolts. Damen stops, worried, but Laurent opens his eyes - when had he closed them? - to glare at him.

“Don’t you dare stop.” He manages, breathlessly, and he can feel a flush of exertion rising up his chest and cheeks. Damen slowly starts moving and when they move together at just the right angle to make Laurent jolt once more he seems to realize that it’s a good thing and not a bad thing that is happening.

He lasts surprisingly long, Laurent thinks, for a man who’s never fucked before. But eventually even Damen’s determination can’t hold out and Damen comes with a deep groan, buried to the hilt inside of Laurent and he wraps his arms around Damen’s neck while Damen’s nose is pressed against his collarbone.

He’d been close. _So close_ quite a few times. Somehow Damen had managed to keep finding that spot that Laurent objectively and academically knew about, but had never personally discovered. But he hasn’t been able to help holding himself back. He hasn’t been able to give up that control. To lose himself to this like he could lose himself in Damen’s kisses. But it had still been nice. Pleasurable. Laurent knew he could easily grow attached to the feeling of Damen inside him. Of both of them working and moving together. Connected.

When Damen recovers he gently pulls out of Laurent and both of them wince. Laurent tries to ignore the warmth running down his buttocks and soaking into the sheets. Damen’s face is relaxed, his whole body is relaxed, and he’s smiling down at Laurent in such a way that Laurent suspects he’d soon start giggling like a giddy young boy. Instead he takes one look down at Laurent, still beneath him, and frowns.

“You didn’t---”

Laurent’s lips stretch into a wry smile, and he reaches up to brush one of Damen’s sweat soaked curls back from his forehead.

“No. I--- I have troubles letting go. Giving up that control. It’s-- It’s not something I’ve found to be easily un-learned.” He says softly and Damen looks angry. It lasts only a second, barely a flash of anger but Laurent sees it. Damen’s face then smooths out and he seems to think for a second before looking down curiously at Laurent.

“If I wanted to try something - would you let me?”

“... something?” Laurent asks, instead of answering the ‘probably’ that really wants to fall from his lips. Damen slides down the bed till he’s kneeling near Laurent’s ankles. He runs his hands up Laurent’s legs, from ankle to hip where he grabs onto either side and rubs his thumbs in the dips between abdominal and leg muscles. Laurent’s left leg twitches and almost comes up to knee Damen in the chest when Damen leans his head down and stops it just inches away from Laurent’s half-flaccid cock.

Laurent’s hand comes up and lands in Damen’s curls.

“Wait.”

Damen looks up at him.

“I---” He swallows, “I’m not going to reciprocate. Not… Not with that.” he manages and Damen shrugs.

“I’m not asking you to. I just want to try.”

Laurent wordlessly let’s go of Damen’s curls and let’s himself flop onto his back. He lays there breathing for a few moments before a single laugh escapes him.

“A-Alright.”

Damen looks pleased and just like the entire night so far his determination blows Laurent away.

 

***

 

It could be minutes or hours, but they laid together in the bed just looking at each other. Laurent had gotten up to wipe himself down with a wet cloth, which he’d brought back to help wipe Damen’s face where some evidence of their lovemaking and his determination had managed to slip away. Then he’d wrapped himself in Damen’s chlamys, plucking it up off the ground before flopping down onto the bed and turning to look at Damen who laid there watching him in return.

Damen’s hands are constantly moving. Sometimes they’re toying with Laurent’s hair, others they’re running over his arms or his side in featherlight touches that send shivers along Laurent’s skin. Damen has an easy smile on his face and Laurent is helpless but to return it whenever Damen’s eyes wander back up to meet his.

It’s been silent for an indeterminate amount of time when a thunderous knock startles both of them. They have no time to move before the heavy wooden door to Laurent’s room is opening and a harried looking Nikandros is tripping inside - clearly having been pushed unsuspectingly. His eyes are everywhere but the bed and he freezes when he’d regains his balance. A smug and practically glowing Lazar saunters in behind him, and he isn’t afraid to look at the bed. Laurent is glad he’d wrapped himself in Damen’s chlamys. Damen doesn’t seem at all perturbed at being naked in front of his Captain and a Veretian redcoat.

Lazar whistles cheerfully.

“Times up, lovebugs. The councilmen need sleep, ancient codgers that they are. It seems you’ve both successfully completed the consummation,” he winks saucily at Laurent with this statement and Laurent fought to keep his face impassive even while he felt his cheeks heat. “Despite being incredibly quiet the entire time, but hey. Some people are the silent and stoic types. Just lay back and think of Vere. Anyways. We’re here to drag out the evidence.” He slaps Nikandros on the back and Nikandros’ is still not looking at them. His eyes look permanently glued to the ceiling.

“Exalted. I’m so sorry. They’ve been incredibly insistant and this one---”

“It’s alright, Nik.” Damen interrupts and Nikandros’ shoulders relax a small amount. Laurent stiffly manages to stand up from the bed, all the ease he and Damen had found together being erased as the outside world comes crashing back in. A servant, or maybe a slave, comes in and quickly and efficiently strips the bed while another puts new sheets down. Cheers erupt from the hallway as the old sheets are drug out and Laurent groans, turning and hiding his face in Damen’s chest.

He’s got no idea how he’s supposed to face all these people. Not after tonight. Not after _this_.

Damen’s arms wrap around him, though, and he relaxes into the embrace while leaning further into him. He doesn’t try to walk, knowing he’s incredibly unsteady on his legs at the moment and that Lazar doesn’t need anymore fuel to chirp him with.

The second servant leaves, and Nikandros bows to Damen - and surprisingly to Laurent - before ducking out of the room, still without having looked at either of them. Laurent turns to watch as Huet comes into the room with the express purpose of dragging a smirking Lazar out. Laurent can hear Lazar complaining loudly as he’s dragged down the hall back towards the revelry. Rochert gives an amused salute to Laurent and a short bow of his head to Damen from outside the room before pulling the door shut.

It’s silent in the room for only a short moment before Laurent is giggling.

Damen’s fingers card through his hair.

“What is so amusing, _Xenos?_ ” He asks and Laurent pulls away just enough to look up at him.

“Nikandros couldn’t even look at us. I don’t. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so uncomfortable and awkward. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“I told you. Akielons are a private people. What happens in the bedroom is between those in the bedroom.” Damen defends and Laurent just grins up at him.

“It’s still funny. I may not be able to show my face to any of the Veretian soldiers in the morning due to embarrassment, but at least I can tease Nikandros.”

Damen sighs.

“Will the two of you ever properly get along?”

“What are you talking about, we do get along.”

“You’re always either insulting each other or endlessly picking on each other.” Damen retorts and Laurent frowns innocently.

“But that is getting along.”

Damen laughs despite himself, before gently shoving Laurent till he’s fallen onto the fresh bed. He crawls up beside Laurent, laying down in front of him and digging Laurent’s hand out from underneath his chlamys wrap to hold it. He brings Laurent’s hand up to kiss his knuckles and Laurent relaxes almost immediately into the new bed sheets.

Damen lets go of Laurent’s hand to pinch at the chlamys.

“I like you like this.” He says before yawning and Laurent holds himself back from yawning in answer. Now that the excitement and tension of the night is over he finds himself exhausted. It’s been a long day.

“Naked and in your bed?” Laurent asks and Damen laughs, shaking his head.

“Wrapped in my colors.” He answers softly and Laurent feels himself flush.

“I’m not so sure red suits me.” He says back just as softly and Damen’s nose scrunches.

“Everything suits you, come here.”

He lifts his arm invitingly and Laurent hesitates for a moment before rolling till he’s right up against Damen’s chest. Damen’s arm drops down to wrap around him and pull him close.

Together they drift off to sleep while the surprisingly unhostile party continues on well into the early morning hours.

Prince Auguste sits at a long table, alone, a goblet of wine in his hand that he hasn’t drank a single sip from all night. He watches from afar as Jord and Nikandros start up a conversation, Lazar interrupting whenever he’s not distracted by Damianos’ soldier, Pallas.

He watches as Veretians and Akielons keep mostly to themselves, a few brave souls challenging each other to drinking games or strength games instead of duels and fights to the death.

This is going to work. He thinks.

This plan is going to work.

 


	8. that echoes on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Councillor Guion.” Laurent says dryly and the man leans back in his seat, clasping his hands together. Another whiff of thick herbal smoke buffets Laurent’s way while he gives Laurent an entirely fake sympathetic look. Laurent knows he’s guessed right. “Care to explain yourself?” Laurent raises an eyebrow and insolently slumps in his seat while his mind fuzzily races to try and figure out what’s going on.
> 
> Guion blinks leisurely back at him. “Of course, your Highness. I realize you haven’t sent anything, or even responded to my last letter of our correspondence. But when your brother invited me down to Marlas, I thought the reason for your silence was obvious. The Akielons and your brother’s embarrassing surrender to them spoke volumes as it were. With so many eyes on you and next to nowhere to hide from them you had to be careful. So we planned a way to get you out of there without raising any undue suspicions. Getting you here but making it seem as though you’d been taken, and not run away, well. We had to go through certain steps to keep up appearances, I’m sure you understand.” Guion unclasps his hands and picks at his robes for a moment - straightening out invisible folds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! So this is technically the end of my Big Bang, because I definitely had an outline far greater than the amount of time I had to write it in. So I split this story into two parts and part one Im using as my big bang. 
> 
> I WILL BE writing part two, which is the continuation of this story, so be on the lookout for that (you can yell at me on tumblr @exalted-one). 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my story so far, and I just wanna give one last shout out to @ziote for doing the lovely art pieces you see featured in this fic, Dee for listening to me cry while writing this fic and cheering me on, and the Big Bang Mods for their tireless efforts in organizing this event. 
> 
> Till next time!  
> \--------------------------------

When he first wakes it’s only for a few moments. Seconds even. He can see small flashes that don’t make sense. Trees. The midday sun. A tall brick wall. A hand reaching towards him. Then darkness.

The next time he wakes his body is screaming at him.

Everything hurts. His arms and legs are half numb and when he tries to move them he finds them stuck; bound. His joints are the main source of pain, clearly he’s been bound for a while. The second source of pain, and the one that actually hurts the most, is his head. It pounds in time with his heart beat and throbs behind his eyes and in one specific spot near the back of his head. He’d likely been knocked unconscious by something or someone, if not at least once then probably a few times.

When he opens his eyes it takes long moments for things to come into focus and even when they do they still wobble unsteadily. He’s dizzy, incredibly so, and he can’t remember what happened or where he is - why he’s bound. He blinks once, twice, three times and the room slowly slips from double images to single objects with a faint echo. His throat clicks when he swallows and his mouth tastes sour. He can’t remember the last time he drank anything.

The room he’s in is large. Dark. Dark enough that he can’t see the walls past the illumination from a single torch that’s flickering just outside his view. There’s an empty chair a meter in front of him made of sturdy looking oak and when he manages to slowly turn his head and wait for the room to stop spinning enough for him to see he sees bars. Stretching from the floor and looking not as if they’d been built there but as if they’d grown from the stone floor and simply pushed through the ceiling like weeds through sidewalk cracks. The torch is on the other side of the bars, which are twisted and dark and cast lines of shadow across the small part of the room he can see. The room smells stale, and thickly of dirt. He brings his head around to look down at himself.

His legs are splayed but when he moves them he finds that they’re not tied to the chair he’s sitting in. A sharp pain shoots up his left ankle, though, and it’s likely that it’s twisted or sprained - maybe even broken but he can’t see it well enough past the double-vision wreaking havoc on his sight. His arms are wrenched behind himself and his wrists are tied to his forearms so they overlap and leave no room for maneuvering. There’s barely the smallest amount of give in the ropes. His hands are entirely numb from the elbows down.

He tries to think back but the last thing he remembers clearly is Marlas.

It’s been two weeks since the wedding and there are still things that have to be sorted through before anyone is allowed to leave. Last minute negotiations (arguments) between the Veretian and Akielon contingents. The main focus now that the wedding has passed are on the full terms of surrender and retreat and the potential for a future, proper, alliance between the two countries. Despite the rather civil wedding festivities it seemed as though only Damen and Auguste were really pushing for the option of total peace and unity.

Charls’, or now Laurent’s, things had been dragged down from Arles on the journey the few councilmen had taken and had been brought to the Akielon camp and placed in Damen’s tent. Together he and Laurent scoured through everything, trying to get any hints or clues as to Charls involvement with everything and who he may have been working with. Laurent was also on the lookout for possible answers as to how the man acted when he wasn’t in the public eye, or Auguste’s.

So far they’d had no luck. Charls had been incredibly smart and hadn’t kept anything even slightly incriminating. Playing him convincingly enough to draw out his supporters was looking like the only option, and it was definitely not going to be an easy role to play; though, Laurent privately thought most of the discrepancies between Laurent’s Charls and the actual Charls could be explained initially away by the situation ‘Charls’ was now in - married to an enemy prince.

Laurent had sat in on one of the ‘negotiation’ meetings but had quickly found himself lost for more than one reason. One, it was incredibly boring and the men all just talked themselves in endless circles without actually getting anything done. And two, they gave no opportunity for him to speak or have a say. Theomedes was outright ignoring him like he didn’t exist and the Veretian councilmen treated him like a wayward child and not a young man of twenty one who’d just been married off to ensure them a political hold in an enemy country. It would have been grating under normal circumstances but the added thought of the fact that this council would treat one of their princes in such a way was an added frustration.

Either these old men were true and loyal supporters of Auguste and they suspected Charls of being a traitor. Or they were in league with Charls and were brilliant actors. Laurent was left with little wiggle room to gauge how he should be acting or reacting to the negotiations and so instead he spent his time away from them and let the councils think he was against all the negotiations and peace in a subtle but public way. He figures that would be a potential move for ‘Charls’ to make in this situation.

Laurent instead goes for walks away from both camps, sometimes with Damen but mostly by himself. He picks fresh, newly flourishing herbs and hangs them up to dry in Damen’s tent when Damen isn’t looking - usually in places he knows Damen will walk into them - both to be a pest and to be prepared. Sometimes though, he finds a particularly beautiful flower and he leaves it in a cup of water in Damen’s tent as well, just because he can (and because a smaller part of him knows it’ll make Damen smile).

They haven’t had sex again. Not since that first night. But they often spend an hour or two after supper and before they actually fall asleep just laying in bed together and speaking. Laurent isn’t sure if it’s him holding them back or if Damen’s been wanting to take things slow after Laurent’s confession that night, but either way he’s glad of the time to actually get to know and learn about Damen in a way he hadn’t before. Even while they’d all been on the road together travelling Akielos. This is… This is different.

Damen talks about his family. What he’d sought to learn about his mother and how his father used to be with her. He tells Laurent the history of the rulers of Akielos and what lines he comes from and how far back he can trace his family. It’s the most riveting history lessons Laurent has ever had. Damen also tells Laurent amusing anecdotes about his early soldier training days or about himself as a child. He’s a brilliant storyteller - able to weave a beautiful tale with even the simplest of words. You find yourself lost in the tale, and not in the words, when Damen speaks. Just like a particularly good book, Laurent is quickly enraptured and Damen seems to delight in having the entirety of Laurent’s focus on himself.

And that’s the thing. Not once has Damen ever made Laurent feel like less, for both the pretence they now have to abide to or for how thickly encompassed Damen himself now is by Laurent’s plotting. Damen doesn’t seem resentful in any way of the turn things have taken. In fact he seems grateful to have someone to talk to. He’d barely scratched the surface about the things that had been bothering him before, both back in Abydos and on the journey around Akielos. It was as if Damen was holding some part of him back, so as not to worry his guards or even his people that he felt there was something wrong - that the potential and then the proof of Kastor’s plotting was weighing on him so heavily. Damen seems to find solace in Laurent’s presence and knowledge of the entire situation, just as Laurent has managed to find in his.

So in return Laurent tells Damen stories about his brother and his father while he’d been growing up, carefully never mentioning Byron - and Damen doesn’t ask when he stops or startles in the middle of one of his tales and picks up somewhere else, for which he is immeasurably grateful. He tells Damen about his medical training and who trained him, and how close they’d been. Paschal had become like a second father while they’d been travelling together and helping heal anyone they could find. Laurent found it easy to confide in Damen. Telling him things he’d never said aloud before. Damen accepts everything with an easy and encouraging smile and a gentle squeeze of their hands. If they’re laying close together, Laurent’s head on Damen’s neck or chest, then Damen gives Laurent a loose hug or runs his hands up and down Laurent’s back.

They spend hours like that, burning all the candles in the tent down to the quick and then still speaking into the darkness till they both drift gently off to sleep. Even when they didn’t speak of themselves, and instead focused on their future strategies or plans Laurent found that he had no nightmares when he slept with Damen in his bed. Not even indistinct ones that didn’t wake him but made him feel uneasy and tired all day. He also hadn’t woken up mistaking Damen for someone else, yet, which he found was a small relief.

Things are so easy between them that Laurent finds himself worrying. Like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. For either Damen to be revealed to be an awful man (which seems more and more unlikely everyday) or for Damen to get fed up playing this game, or even for him to get hurt because of Laurent and then having to leave him. This entire charade of playing a prince during a time rife with such tension is sure to bring harm upon one or both of them. They’re trying to trick dangerous people who aren’t afraid to murder others to get what they want. Even if it means dirtying their hands themselves. Sometimes Laurent wonders if he could have found a different way to help Auguste and Damen. A way that was less perilous. Because he knows, had everything started over he would still be here trying to help, but is this really the best way?

Laurent remembers being out on one of his walks. He’d seen a plant he’d never seen before and had crouched down to get a better look. He’d picked up a nearby twig to be able to turn the leaves around without touching them, incase it was poisonous, and he’d resolved to grab a spare bit of cloth from his bag to bring a sample back and ask any of the nurses or doctors when --- nothing.

It’s all black after that.

He’d let go of the stick, reaching back into his bag while still looking at the plant and noting it’s height and the kind of dirt it was in. And before his hand had even made contact with his bag things had gone dark.

Though, Laurent thinks darkly, he’d most likely been hit on the head right then if the ice pick pain he feels on the back of his head is any indication. When he tries to think back again he gets small flickers of things, like a group of trees or the sun setting between them. A wall, even. But just the mere concentration of trying to focus on those mental images exhausts him and causes his eyes to go out of focus with the pain that blooms behind them.

There’s no window, which strikes him as odd for a moment until he squints back at the bars to his right. His brain stutters to life like a dying car and he realizes that he recognizes those bars. He recognizes the twists to them and the placement, because he remembers four years ago, and a hundred years into the future, being in this very room when it had been full to the brim with extra medical supplies and still somehow smelling thickly of dirt.

He’s in Fortaine. The dungeons of Fortaine to be exact.

The chair he’s in and the one across from him seem out of place, still, and he thinks that they’ve probably been brought here specifically for the express purpose of whatever interrogation is about to happen. The reason why he’s been taken from Marlas and brought to Fortaine.

He doubts that regular prisoners get a cell all to themselves with a chair, even as tightly tied as he is to it.

The door on the other side of the bars creaks open and in his haste to turn towards it he has to close his eyes on the sudden rush of nausea. His heart feels as though it’s going to break out of his chest, it’s crashing so soundly against his ribs, and adrenaline floods his system. He barely stops a groan from escaping and forces his eyes to flutter open while he schools his features into a cool and calm, bored even, expression. He stops his wrists, which had been struggling against the restraints unconsciously, just in time for a figure to slip through the door and close it behind themselves as they stalk towards the bars.

The light from the single torch only goes so far and Laurent has to wait for his visitor to grab the torch and bring it with him into the cell for him to see. The figure is hunched, and he walks with a distinctive limp as he puts the torch in an empty sconce on the wall inside the cell and then turns to drag the empty chair closer to Laurent. He goes back to the bars of the cell and clanks them closed with such a force as to set Laurent’s head pounding hard enough to temporarily blur his vision. The figure sits down across from him in the empty chair and Laurent struggles to even out his breathing while his vision clears.

He’s familiar, with long grey hair that’s pulled back into a tight braid. His nose is sharp, and his cheekbones stand out starkly in the dim torchlight. Laurent can’t tell what color his eyes are but his expression is severe and schooled into calm aloofness. His cheeks are sunken in old age and his face is weathered with wrinkles. His hands look frail, his fingers long where they peek out of the sleeves of an intricate Veretian cloak. He looks as though a soft wind could blow at him and make him collapse, it’s a wonder he was able to open the prison gate so easily and smoothly. Laurent knows from experience that the gate is made of heavy iron and the hinges stick.

A cloying herbal smell and smoke drift off him everytime he moves his cloak and it mixes with the smell of dirt in Laurent’s nose and makes him feel even more nauseous. Laurent recognizes him as one of the Veretian councilmen Auguste had invited down from Arles, one of the ones Auguste claimed to trust implicitly. But he can’t quite remember which councilman this was.

He runs over the names in his head, Auguste’s shoddy crash-course just days before they’d arrived in Marlas almost long forgotten. There was Herode, who Laurent remembers easily as being the oldest man Laurent has ever met and also the only one he could personally stand to talk to for more than a few moments. Herode hadn’t treated him as a misbehaving child like the others had, he treated him almost as if he was of little consequence. His attention was always on Auguste, and for good reason. Herode had been close friends with King Tyrell, Auguste’s father, and had been on his council since they were both quite young.

There was Chelaut, who Laurent vaguely remembers as being a lord of a village in Barbin and who’d been much like a second father to Auguste. Chelaut had been the Commander of the Bluecoats when he and Tyrell had been younger, having only just recently been replaced. He still watched over the training of the bluecoats, despite now being part of the council and therefore part of the team incharge of the Redcoats. But he was a large man, and not in the way most older men were. He still had quite a fair amount of muscle to him, and could easily take down most men in a fight. He didn’t limp, and he stood with perfect posture.

There’s Jeurre, who Laurent hazily remembered from the wedding ceremony and the few negotiation meetings he’d attended. He’d been silent, and hadn’t uttered a single word in Laurent’s company. Laurent couldn’t remember, at the moment, what Auguste had told him about Jeurre, but he didn’t look like the man sitting before him.

This left only one other councillor who had left Arles to come to Marlas and he, coincidentally, was the Lord over the border fort Fortaine. Which, if Laurent was correct (and he was almost a hundred percent certain, even as concussed as he currently was), was where he was currently tied up.

“Councillor Guion.” Laurent says dryly and the man leans back in his seat, clasping his hands together. Another whiff of thick herbal smoke buffets Laurent’s way while he gives Laurent an entirely fake sympathetic look. Laurent knows he’s guessed right. “Care to explain yourself?” Laurent raises an eyebrow and insolently slumps in his seat while his mind fuzzily races to try and figure out what’s going on.

Guion blinks leisurely back at him. “Of course, your Highness. I realize you haven’t sent anything, or even responded to my last letter of our correspondence. But when your brother invited me down to Marlas, I thought the reason for your silence was obvious. The Akielons and your brother’s embarrassing surrender to them spoke volumes as it were. With so many eyes on you and next to nowhere to hide from them you had to be careful. So we planned a way to get you out of there without raising any undue suspicions. Getting you here but making it seem as though you’d been taken, and not run away, well. We had to go through certain steps to keep up appearances, I’m sure you understand.” Guion unclasps his hands and picks at his robes for a moment - straightening out invisible folds.

Laurent lets some annoyance color his voice. “And if your plan was to make things seem convincing, then well done. You’ve done so. But why am I _still_ tied up and in the dungeons of Fortaine.”

“We have to keep up appearances, just in case, your Highness.”

“We’re in Vere. We’re in the fort _you_ are the lord of, councillor. The only people who could possibly stumble upon me here would be Veretian. I don’t need to be restrained.”

“You can’t fault me for being cautious--”

“And the head injury I’ve sustained? Was that also caution?”

“Of course, we had to---”

“Commit treason?” Laurent points out and he sees Guion’s jaw clench. He fights back a tired grin.

“I think you’ll find I’ve done no such thing.” Guion says and Laurent gives him a blank look.

“I’m in your fort, in your dungeons. I’ve been tied to a chair for hours, and I’ve been hit on the head twice. You’ve raised your hands to a Prince of Vere - that’s treason. Not even counting the charges for kidnapping.”

“I hadn’t realized you’d consider it kidnapping. I figured you’d be desperate to be away from the savages. And I think you’ll find I’ve not raised a single hand to you.”

“You’d better prepare yourself for the moment _I_ raise my hands to _you_ for this.” Laurent warns, fighting back a wave of dizziness. Guion’s expression doesn’t change.

“I think you’ll find that difficult to do, your Highness, seeing as you’re just a little,” he pauses, “ _tied up_ at the moment.”

“I think you shouldn’t underestimate me, councillor. You may not like the consequences.” Laurent starts to subtly move his hands behind his back, trying to work enough wiggle room in the knots to pull his hands out.

“Amazing. Two weeks being sullied by the Akielon Prince and you seem to have forgotten the objective. What, has his cock made you switch sides?” Guion all but simpers and Laurent’s lips peel back in a wordless snarl.

Apparently this councillor isn’t as loyal as Auguste had thought, if he’d kidnapped Laurent just for the chance to speak to him away from everyone else. Guion clearly was closer to Charls than Laurent had thought, if they’d been exchanging regular correspondence. He also say _‘we planned a way to get you out of there’_ meaning he was likely working with Charl’s uncle, or his support system in the castle now that the man was dead. He had no idea on how to react in this situation, and no clue what possible objective Charls could have had other than the wide and vague ‘take over Vere and Akielos’ objective.

“I think you’ll find my focus is _always_ on the objective and everything it takes to get there.” He starts, his voice calm but underlined with anger. He’s been able to wiggle his one wrist so his fingers are on the rope and now he feels along it for possible weaknesses. “Regardless of how things look to the general populace, what I’m more concerned with is how to work this situation to my favor. I had no choice in the matter of the marriage, Auguste insisted on meeting with Damianos alone. I couldn’t convince him otherwise. Now I’m stuck on the Akielon side, soon to be deep in Akielos, and I need to make connections. It’s crucial to our efforts.” Laurent tries, and Guion’s head tilts to the side.

“Perhaps, but it’s very unlike you to drop all correspondence. Audin says he hasn’t heard from you in weeks. I wrote to you before we left Arles and still haven’t heard a single whisper on the subject. We’ve been sitting here chatting for minutes now and not once have you brought up anything related to the plan.” Guion leans forward in his seat, his eyes intent on Laurent’s face.

Laurent tries to ignore the growing unease he’s feeling.

“I feel disinclined to _chat_ , as you say, when I’m tied up and restrained like a common criminal.” He deflects and Guion’s mouth turns down at the corners. “And I have no idea what reinforcements you’ve decided are necessary in this situation. Anyone could be outside that door, listening in. You think me fool enough to reveal such crucial information anywhere that _you_ see fit, councillor? Last I checked _I’m_ the one who’s royalty. I make the decisions here.”

Guion leans back in his seat with a fake-perplexed expression on his face.

“I thought it was you and your uncle making the decisions, _your Highness_ , seeing as your plan is to put him back on the throne.” So. That’s one part of the plan revealed. Charls didn’t want the throne, but the ‘Regent’ did.

“It’s his rightful place. But I have always been the advisor and the one in charge when he isn’t personally there. I’m the one he trusts to make decisions in his absence. What does he trust you with?” Laurent taunts and sees Guion’s nostrils flare and his face twist into the beginnings of a snarl before he reigns it in.

“It’s not a matter of trust, it’s a matter of results. I always get him what he needs, whereas recently you’ve been doing none of that. I’ve had to start involving my family, your Highness, which I wouldn’t have had to do if you’d just kept in contact and told your uncle or I about your plans.” Laurent’s fingers find one of the knots and begin picking at it.

“Something’s been off with you, your Highness.” Guion begins, consideringly, and Laurent makes sure to keep his face blank except for the rising of a single unimpressed eyebrow. “I saw it at that farce of a wedding, and during the dinner afterwards, you didn’t act like yourself. Not enough for someone who’s known you since you were a boy to be able to ignore. And then in the weeks following, I’ve been watching. You haven’t given any indication of a change of plans, and yet you’ve also not been working hard enough towards our current plans or goals. You slip away enough, quite a lot actually, but you also seem to willingly spend time with the savage Akielon Prince.” Guion tilts his head from side to side, his eyes slowly crawling from Laurent’s toes up and up and up till their eyes meet. Guion frowns at him looking genuinely perplexed for a moment.

“If I hadn’t seen you myself, if someone else had simply reported what i’ve seen back to me, well. I’d say that they weren’t looking at the real Charls of Vere. Half the time I look at you even I don’t see the Second Prince. I don’t know what I’m seeing, actually. You look remarkably like him, but I know he wasn’t born of a set of twins, and I’ve never seen another man look so closely like another before. I’d almost…” He trails off and Laurent gives a small huff of a laugh.

“It almost what, councillor?” He taunts, watching Guion for any signs he’s noticed that Laurent is slowly loosening his ropes. He’s hardly paying attention to what the councilman is saying, his attention stretched between hiding the amount of pain and discomfort he’s in, his current escape plan, the potential for what he’s going to do when he does manage to get out of his ropes, and then finally what Guion is insinuating. Which just makes him seem like a madman to anyone who doesn’t actually know the truth.

“It’s silly. Something that men and women claim to believe in just to blame someone else for their misfortunes. I’ve never had reason to believe it before but… how closely you resemble him, and yet how starkly different the two of you are is almost like… witchcraft.” Guion mumbles and Laurent stops moving his fingers, looking across the flickering firelight to the councilman in front of him.

“Witchcraft.” Laurent’s voice is blank, and he watches Guion shuffle indecisively in his seat. A flash of metal catches Laurent’s eyes and he sees a short jeweled sheath tied to the Guion’s hip. Likely a ceremonial dagger of some kind. But a dagger is a dagger is a dagger. If Laurent keeps him distracted enough to get loose maybe he could grab it - but then what? First things first though, he needs to keep Guion distracted. Witchcraft, he’d said. Well, Laurent can play with that.  

“I’ll admit it’s not the first thing to come to mind but I haven’t got any other idea as to what could be going on.”

“Maybe I’ve been working on a plan without my uncle’s input. Maybe I’ve been working on something so crucial that I can’t reveal anything about it to anyone. _Maybe_ you’re not as smart or as observant as you’d like to think. Maybe you don’t know me as well as you’d like to think. My brother has known me my entire life and I guarantee you he has no clue what plans I’ve made against him.” Laurent leans back in his chair as much as he’s able, simultaneously giving off a careless attitude and giving a little more room to maneuver his hands and the ropes tied to them.

He lets his lips quirk up, infuriatingly, in the corners. “Really, Guion. You think you have the upper hand here? You think you play a major part in this game?” He laughs. “You don’t. You’re a pawn. Another piece that can be thrown away as soon as it’s lost its usefulness. You already seem to be playing both sides. When have you ever publicly, in anyway, gone against Auguste. He looks to believe you firmly in his corner, how can I know that that’s not true? Here you sit, accusing me of being someone I’m not when my entire life has been spent on getting what’s rightfully mine. What’s been owed me, my entire life.” Laurent starts and sees Guion’s eyes widen.

“I’m not in this to get my uncle on the throne. That’s what he’s wants. And everyone’s been so concerned with what he wants. What about what I want, councillor? What about what I’m _owed_?”

“You… You want to put yourself on the throne.” Guion says, voice soft with shock and his eyes wide in genuine surprise. Laurent has no idea if Charls really wanted the throne for himself, but with how staunchly Guion had tried to put him ‘in his place’ earlier by reminding him that it’s the Regent they’re trying to make King, well. It seemed his best bet, if only for shock value. He manages to slip a finger free, and works to pull the rest out gently. Then he starts working on the ropes on his other hand.

“I haven’t been acting myself? I don’t think you know me well enough to gage that, councillor. Not when you don’t even know the game well enough to know what your real role here is. I’ll admit,” Laurent says condescendingly just as his hands become completely free, “that having you as Ambassador to Akielos, well. That was my uncle’s plan. And I went along with it, of course, but I could see no usefulness you could pose me in that role. But now? Well. Now if I kill you, that leaves a spot open for someone else to become Ambassador, someone who I _know_ is completely on my side and able to help me in my true plans.”

“What--- Kill me? You can’t just--- I have been a loyal--”

“You have not.” Laurent interrupts, a plan starting to form in his mind. “You’ve raised your hands to me, if not personally then under your orders. You’ve had me tied up for hours, with no thought to the consequences of your actions. You’re lucky I haven’t been hurt worse under your ‘care’ or I’d make your death more painful than I’m already planning.” Laurent bluffs, twisting his wrists behind his back to bring blood flow back into his hands. He’s going to need them.

“And I don’t just plan to take the Veretian throne. You think me so simple as to stop there?” Laurent leans forward in his seat and grins, showing his teeth. “No. The plan for me to marry the Prince of Akielos was mine. Uncle will try to take Vere, and he’ll likely succeed, but by that time I will have Akielos entirely under my control. And when Theomedes dies and my husband is made King, I will be King of Akielos alongside him. And then I will take the throne from my uncle and kill my barbarian husband and I will rule over both countries, councillor.”

“That--- that’s impossible. There’s no way you could possibly…” Guion cuts himself off, and visibly tries to reign his reactions to Laurent’s words in. Might as well go all out now. Laurent finds the throbbing headache is making him want to completely commit to the role, if only out of spite. Time for his wild card.

“You’re right. I can’t rule over both, not by myself. But then again, there is one part of this whole thing you’ve got correct. I won’t be ruling by myself. Witchcraft you called it.” Laurent starts, slowly standing from his chair and watching Guion go deathly pale in the torchlight as Laurent towers over him. Laurent fights back the dizziness and the pain of standing on his twisted ankle to look down darkly at the councillor.

“Charls got in contact with someone. Someone powerful. And he made me.” Laurent lifts a hand and pretends to admire it, flipping it over once and then twice before looking back down at Guion. “He bargained with a witch, who summoned a demon, who summoned me, you see Guion.” Laurent leans down and Guion seems frozen in place as Laurent tries not to gag on the herbal scent emanating from him as it coats his tongue while he speaks and breathes. “It takes a lot of work to make a demon look like a person. Especially one person in particular. It takes lots of energy and a certain kind of sacrifice, but Charls knew what he wanted and what he was willing to give up.”

“You-- You’re not Charls.” Guion stutters and Laurent insolently shrugs while shaking his head before grinning as widely as he can.

“No. No I’m not. And while I’m ruling over the Akielon throne, Charls will try to rule over the Veretian one and he will fail. He’ll die before he can, actually. But I won’t. I can’t die, Guion. This body can be hurt, sure, but I cannot. I’m a demon, don’t forget. I’m sure you’re familiar with the term ‘a wolf in sheep's clothing’. Take that but make it a hundred times worse and then you have me. And what do I want? I want to rule over both countries and I _will_ rule over both countries. It’s a pity you won’t be there to see it.” Laurent puts on an exaggerated pout as he subtly reaches forward and pulls the dagger from it’s sheath while Guion’s eyes are locked on his. “All because you couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

He blindly throws the dagger at the torch, knocking it from it’s sconce and scattering sparks and ashes across the stone floor before the room is plunged in darkness. Guion screams.

 

***

 

“This doesn’t make any sense. He wouldn’t do that.”

“Damianos. We’ve been over this. Multiple times. We hardly know the man or his actual motivations. The only thing we know for certain is that he came here unwittingly and he wanted to return home.”

“You speak as if he’s gone.”

“I think he is. For all intents and purposes. Not _gone_ gone, but gone from this time.”

Damen’s jaw clenches but he makes no other outward show of his frustration. It feels like they’ve been talking in circles for hours now. He hears Auguste sigh and he chances a glance to see him looking up at Damen helplessly from where he’s seated at a dark oak desk.

“And I’m telling you he wouldn’t just leave. Not without telling me, at least.”

Auguste bites his lip for a moment and seems to hold himself back from saying something. Damen raises an eyebrow at him. He sighs.

“You can’t know that for certain. Sure, intellectually he knew the stones were here. But we don’t know how he was feeling. How would you feel, stuck in a foreign time and place for months and then suddenly stumbling upon your ticket back home. I’m rather certain were I in his place I’d have gone home.”

“But that’s just it, you’re not in his place. He’s not you. He’s not going to make the same choices. Before any of this even happened, before we came up with this insane plan, I told him that the stones were here. I was willing to steal him away in the dead of night from the Akielon camp, sneak past your Veretian scouts, and take him to the stones myself. I urged him to go home, I told him we’d find a way to work things out - he’s the one who insisted on staying to help. He’s not the kind of man to go back on his word.”

“You _think_ he’s not the kind of man to go back on his word.” Auguste points out and Damen doesn’t deign to give him a response. Instead he goes back to his pacing, wearily working a path into the stone floor of Auguste’s rooms in Marlas.

Laurent had been missing for hours now. The last anyone had seen of him was when the days negotiations started up, but something had felt off all day. Damen had woken up with a feeling like something wasn’t right and now Laurent was missing. They’d kept it quiet for hours now, writing it off as Laurent being on a solo mission when asked after his presence during supper. Damen chances another glance out the only window in Auguste’s rooms, though all he sees is darkness with small specks of light from torches scattered around the camp.

“Damianos. We’ve looked for him. There’s not a trace of him anywhere. There are no signs of a struggle or of foul play--”

“There aren’t any signs of him planning to leave, either.” Damen interrupts and Auguste groans, dropping his head into his hands for a brief moment before letting them fall away and looking back up at Damen.

“I don’t think he planned to leave,” Auguste starts, slowly, “I think it just sort of… Happened.”

Damen gives him a blank, unimpressed look. Auguste looks skyward before shaking his head and giving a humorless laugh.

“Clearly there’s no way for me to phrase it where you’ll believe me.”

“Because I know him.”

“I know him too.”

“Not as well as you seem to think you do.” Auguste gives him a look.

“He spent three months in my camp, learning how to be a Prince, and a conniving one at that, and while he was learning about that I was coming to know him. It’s entirely possible that he--”

“ _Not without telling me.”_ Damen says through gritted teeth and Auguste goes silent.

“How can you be so sure of that.”

Damen stops his pacing and turns around, walking forward till he can lean down and put his hands on the desk, splayed out. He looks down at the multiple drafts and copies of notes from the peace negotiations instead of looking at Auguste.

“I just am.”

“Damianos that’s not a real answer.”

Damen looks away from the papers and back to the dark window. Hours they’ve been here. Hours where Laurent has been alone wherever he is, probably in need of help. He’s not going to spend another hour fruitlessly arguing with Auguste. If Auguste wants to believe that Laurent went back home, fine. Damen will look for Laurent himself.

“Why are you so insistent about this?” Auguste asks, quietly and Damen just shakes his head.

“I’m going to go look for him.” He says instead, finally turning to meet Auguste’s eyes and Auguste’s attention flickers around his face. He watches Auguste’s expression furrow in concentration before it goes slack, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open a fraction.

“This isn’t about Laurent.” Auguste says, suddenly, and Damen feels his own face crumple in confusion.

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“No that’s not--” Auguste waves a hand dismissively while he leans forward in his seat and looks closer at Damen. “I mean it is about Laurent but-- I thought you were more worried about what we’re going to do if he has gone home, how we’re going to keep the peace negotiations going, but that’s not it. You don’t care about that, you care about him.”

“Of course I care about him. He’s by himself here, in a situation far too complicated for one person to even hope of navigating on their own. You literally killed your own brother and uncle, I can’t imagine what someone could possibly do to him just because he looks like your brother. He’s in danger here.”

“No. No this is something else, something _more._ You.. You’re in love with him.”

Damen carefully doesn’t answer and Auguste barks a disbelieving laugh, looking at Damen with an incredulous expression.

“ _Damianos._ This isn’t real! You’re not actually married to him, this is all a game, a plot. He was always going to go home!”

Damen rolls his eyes and pushes away from the desk so he’s standing straight up.

“Incase you missed the ceremony a mere two weeks ago, I _am_ actually married to him--”

“You’re married to my brother, Charls, who’s dead.” Auguste interrupts and Damen doesn’t even think. One second he’s standing upright and the next his hands have slammed down on the desk hard enough to push it an inch towards Auguste. It makes a terrible scraping noise as it slides impossibly across the stone floor. Auguste is looking up at him with wide eyes.

“It’s because of _you_ that Laurent is here right now.” He says lowly, darkly. “You look like his dead brother, you’re an ancient member of the family. He feels he has to help you get out of the stupid situation you’ve put yourself in. He’s been missing for hours now and you’ve barely looked for him. I don’t care what you fucking do, but I’m going to go look for him.”

Damen takes his stinging hands off the desk and abruptly turns, stalking towards the door.

“Damen.” Auguste’s voice is soft, sad, and Damen feels his face twist into a soundless snarl.

“Don’t.”

He shoves the door open rougher than he should and it slams open with a bang. Jord jumps and gives Damen a blatantly suspicious glance before he ducks into the room. Damen leaves the door wide open as he marches down the twisting halls. He passes the corner where he left Nikandros and Nik doesn’t say anything as he falls into step beside Damen as he storms from the fort and out into the night.

“What’s the plan?” Nik finally asks, when they’re halfway to the Akielon camp and away from potential prying ears.

“Get Pallas and Lydos. We’re looking for him.”

“Prince Auguste?”

Damen shakes his head, his expression furious.

“He won’t be helping.”

 

***

 

He ducks into a dark corner hidden from view by the shadows created from the low burning torch at the end of the hallway just in time for a set of guards to run past him shouting orders. He slams his head back against the wall for a second in frustration, forgetting for a moment the lump on his head and receiving a wicked wave of nausea in retaliation. His eyes water and he fights back the impulse to cough up his own stomach, instead listening for another round of guards.

He hadn’t counted on Guion’s scream being quite so loud. Well. He hadn’t counted on Guion screaming at all actually.

His heart is pounding in his throat as he darts out of his hiding spot and down the hall. He knows Fortaine like the back of his hand. Frequent visits before the war, then living here for a year during it and returning after to see about it’s revival as a historical museum meant he knew where every twist and turn would take him. Which stairs led where, where all the hidden servants passageways were. He slips behind a tapestry just in time to miss another set of guards and he brings his hands up to cover his mouth and try to quiet his breathing - forgetting for a moment what’s happened right up until he feels the wetness against his cheeks and then he panics for a second and rips his hands away again.

He feels along the wall behind him with shaking hands and almost misses the small, secret handle twice before he manages to calm himself enough to actually grab on and tug it open. He ducks into the servants passageway and lets the door close behind him. Finally he takes a second to suck in a loud breath - it’s closer to a sob really.

Back there. In the dungeons. He’d--- He’d actually. He closes his eyes on the darkness for a moment and falls back against the closed door, leaning all his weight against it.

Guion had screamed and in the darkness there had been a struggle. Somehow Laurent had managed to locate the dagger in the darkness and now… Now. He wipes his hands on his filthy laced up trousers and takes deep breaths, blocking out the darkness to try and focus on what he’s going to do now.

He has to get out of Fortaine. That much is blatantly obvious, especially with Guion dead and his men on high alert. But Laurent is only halfway through the fort, there’s still so far to go and he’s been running on adrenaline and shock and it’s starting to wear off. His ankle is screaming at him and his hands won’t stop shaking and he still feels like he’s two seconds away from upending his guts upon the stone floor but he knows he has to get out of here. He has to get back to Marlas.

Wearily he managed to push himself off the door, putting one foot in front of the other and letting his body take control and lead him. There won’t be too many guards at the fort, even if Guion had called some back. Most of them would have to still be over in Marlas with the majority of Vere’s army. They’ll also be on the lookout for whoever left Guion in the dungeons, once they get there and see what’s happened. He’s got mere moments to try and make it outside the fort. His best bet is to take the passageway to the kitchens, where he can duck outside and it’s a quick run to the stables.

If he can steal a horse, it’s a short ride to Marlas - even in the dark. But it’s going to be hard on his ankle, his concussion, and his rioting stomach. A wave of hopelessness comes creeping up to squeeze his lungs and he fights back another sob as he keeps walking, one hand coming up to brace himself against the wall and keep him upright as he goes.

Depending on how one thinks about it, it’s both surprisingly and unsurprising that the servants tunnels are empty. Laurent can hear the distant shouting of men, muffled through the stone walls and all their secret doors, but he can’t hear a single soul in the tunnels with him.

Somehow he manages to make it to the kitchens. And then one second he’s in the kitchens and the next he’s limping into the stables. As soon as the smell of hay hits his nose he ducks down and empties his stomach on the dirt, retching till there’s nothing left to come up and then almost choking on air as his body keeps trying to insist he’s got more to give up.

When he can manage to lift his head high enough to get a proper look around he almost starts sobbing again. The stables are empty. There’s not a single horse in sight. He blearily stumbles from stall to stall, his vision blurry and his heart in his throat. He can hear men shouting indistinctly into the night, and they’re close. Closer than he needs at the moment.

He trips over his own feet and wastes precious seconds pulling himself back upright as he nears the last stalls.

He could try to walk to Marlas. Like he did all those months ago but he knows it’ll take hours and it’s pitch black outside. His ankle is becoming unbearable to walk on and he knows he won’t be able to force much more out of it before he just can’t walk anymore.

The light from the torches hardly reaches as far back as the last stalls in the stable, and he trips on his feet again, crashing shoulder first into the wall and looking in the last two stalls. Empty. The voices outside are getting closer and Laurent is about to sink to the ground when he hears something.

He turns to his right and tries to focus through the return of his double vision, but the stall still seems empty. He stumbles a few steps closer and doesn’t blink.

Two eyes shine out of the darkness at him and when he gives a quiet, disbelieving laugh, the darkness huffs at him and he can hear the sharp sound of a hoof stomping impatiently on the ground.

The stables aren't empty. There’s one horse. He’s going to get out of here.

 

***

 

“Report?” Damen asks, his jaw clenched, but he knows before Lydos even opens his mouth that the answer is going to be one he doesn’t like. Lydos shakes his head, his expression reluctant.

“Nothing. No sign of him.”

Damen growls in frustration, his hands coming up to run over his face and into his hair. He stands like that for a moment to take a deep breath before he lets his hands fall down to his sides. “Thank you, Lydos. Why don’t you have a seat, take a break.” Damen motions flippantly to where Nikandros is sitting and picking at a cold bread roll while perched atop one of Damen’s many trunks. Nikandros nods his head towards Damen’s desk where a tray sits half covered in stray fruits and rolls from the night before. A jug of wine is set beside empty cups. Lydos immediately goes for the wine, pouring himself a cup and silently asking Nikandros if he also wants one. Nik sighs but nods and so Damen watches Lydos pour him a glass before he walks over and sits beside Nik on the trunk.

“I made it all the way to the Ellosean sea on horseback, zig zagging the whole way there. I didn’t see any signs of a hasty departure via sea, or even signs of a struggle to or from the beach. When I came back I did the same, and even with the coming morning there was nothing that looked out of the ordinary. I didn’t see him or anyone else who might have looked suspicious. I-- I’m sorry, Exalted.” Lydos looks down at the cup in his hands, uncharacteristically silent and Damen shakes his head, though Lydos doesn’t see.

“It’s not your fault. We’re only four men and he’d been gone for hours before we even left. You did all you could, soldier.”

Lydos idly spins the cup around in his hands, passing it back and forth without taking a sip. “I don’t know entirely what’s going on--” Lydos holds a hand up to stop Damen before he can even open his mouth to interrupt, “and I know that you’ll tell me when I need to know, but this whole thing…. He’s just a man. Just a-- A Doctor. If he really has been taken, what’s he going to do? How hurt is he going to be when we find him, if we do find him, because we didn’t try hard enough in our searching?” Lydos finally looks up at Damen, letting his outstretched hand drop. One corner of his lips curl up into a deprecating smile. “I know he was a Veretian, but he kinda growing on me.” He says quietly and Damen huffs a small laugh.

“He’s tougher than he looks. And we will find him,” Damen nods to himself and to Lydos, “We’ll get him back. He might be a Veretian but he’s our Veretian now.” Lydos looks slightly less somber as he gives Damen a short nod of acknowledgement and then finally brings the cup to his lips and downs the entire thing at once.

“Now we’re waiting for Pallas. If he hasn’t found anything then I’m sending all of you to your tents. We’ve got a busy day and night ahead of us and I’m going to need you all as rested as possible. There’s no way that I can miss being present for the negotiations, not when my father isn’t truly sold on a future peace treaty and when someone needs to be there to make plausible excuses for Laurent’s absence. But I’ll try to end them early today and then with the last of the daylight hours we’ll try again. Maybe this time as a group, instead of splitting up.” Damen trails off and Nikandros and Lydos both nod. They look exhausted, probably as exhausted as Damen feels, but there’s this other part of him that’s being weighed down by guilt.

He should’ve realized Laurent was missing sooner. He shouldn’t have spent so long arguing with Auguste last night. He’d gathered Pallas, Lydos and Nik and sent them all off into the night going north, west and south respectively. He’d gone east to look for the stones and miraculously he’d found them, just a mile east of Marlas and half a mile south. The only missing effect of Laurent’s personal belongings was his medical bag, which he’d likely had on him when he’d set off yesterday morning. Damen was hoping to find it, or maybe even just a piece of it or any of his supplies. It would be a small sign but it would still indicate that Laurent was taken, and hadn’t left but even around the stones there had been no sign of a struggle or even that anyone had recently entered the clearing. Damen was at loose ends with no clear idea on how to retie them.

“Damen.” He brings his eyes up to meet Nik’s. “Come on. Come eat something, please. You want us to rest up, but you’ve got to do the same. You’re of no use to him if you don’t keep your strength up - he might need it.” Nikandros holds up an untouched roll and Damen slowly reached out to take it, taking a small step towards Nik when someone bursts into the tent proceeds to then trip over their own feet.

“E-Exalted!” Pallas gasps as Damen automatically darts forward to keep him upright. Lydos and Nikandros both jump to their feet and all of them converge around their friend. Pallas’ breathing is heavy and his skin is hot under Damen’s hands like he’s been running. “I was just--- I was--”

“Soldier.” Nikandros cuts in, his voice steady and Pallas’ wide eyes focus on him. Damen steps out of the way as Nik puts both hands on the young soldiers shoulders. “Why don’t you take a few deep breaths, okay? Breathe with me.” It’s a small command, but it’s a command none the less and Pallas takes to it easily. Together they work towards easing Pallas’ near hyperventilating until it’s closer to normal breathing but Damen feels impatience rear up in him.

“What is it Pallas?”

Pallas turns away from Nikandros to focus on Damen. “I was just returning. I-- I brought my horse to the corrals and had tied it up, I was-- I was on my way back here when I saw something. A rider.” He shakes his head, his hands coming up to grab lightly at Nik’s arms which are still stretched out to hold him steady. “Just a single rider. Coming in from the north, but I hadn’t seen him on my search, not when I left nor as I was returning. I don’t know what path he took but he’s coming in slowly. And he doesn’t look to be a soldier.” Damen and Nikandros share a look and Damen fights down the small flare of desperate hope that starts sprouting in his gut.

“Was it him? Was it Laurent?” Damen asks, trying to contain the urgency in his tone but Pallas shakes his head.

“I dont-- I don’t know. I couldn’t see him well enough.”

“Then why did you come running in hre like there was hell on your heels?” Lydos asks and Pallas takes a few deep breaths before giving them all a serious look from beneath his sweat soaked curls.

“Because this rider was going _around_ the Veretian camp and was headed straight for ours instead.”

The flare of hope inside Damen moves up and into his chest making it hard to breathe. “A lone rider going around the Veretian camp and headed for the Akielon one? A rider who came from the north on a lesser known path. He’d likely be a Veretian, but it makes no sense for him to come here instead of going to his Prince.” Damen says, mostly to himself but everyone else can easily hear his speculations.

“There’s a fort, isn’t there? Fortaine? Just a few miles north of Marlas. It could be someone from there?” Lydos says and Nikandros makes a noise of disagreement, letting his hands drop from Pallas’ shoulders.

“No. Well, yes. There is a fort just north of Marlas. But there’s a large road that takes you directly between the two. And Vere doesn’t have anything in Fortaine right now except for maybe some extra rations or supplies. All their men are here in their camp. A single rider could be a messenger, but then why would a Veretian messenger be coming to the Akielon camp? We’ve been here long enough that I’d assume Prince Auguste would have told anyone important back in Arles what the situation was. No one would make the mistake of thinking we were the Veretian side of things.” Nikandros points out before looking over and catching Damen’s eye.

“We could see who it is. What they want. Before anyone else sees them. Maybe it’s someone who was working with Charls and they know he’d be in the Akielon camp? Maybe Laurent has managed to send someone to let us know what’s happening? Either way, we can’t let your father’s guards detain them.” Nik says quietly and Damen nods before turning his focus on Pallas and Lydos.

“Pallas.” Pallas looks up at him. “Take a moment, there’s some food on my desk and wine or water as well. Catch your breath, Nikandros and I will go see who this rider is. Lydos, stay with him. Make sure he drinks at least one cup of water. Then the two of you are free for the morning. I’ll find you in the afternoon if I still need you.” Lydos bows in acknowledgement before leading Pallas over to the desk on the opposite side of the tent. Damen and Nikandros watch them bicker for a moment before turning around and ducking out into the burgeoning morning.

It’s immediately apparent that this rider has some insane luck. He’s close enough that Damen can clearly make out the shape of their pitch-black horse against the dark backdrop of the forest and the wide open clearing between both camps. Yet there are no Veretian soldiers marching out to detain him, nor are there Akielon soldiers out to do the same. In fact, when Damen hazards a look around he can’t see a single person other than Nikandros and this mysterious rider, which is odd. The sun is about to rise to their left and most soldiers are trained to rise with the sun, at the very least the competent ones are. Yet Damen sees neither hide nor hair of anyone at all. He can’t even hear the distinctive sounds of a camp waking up and starting it’s day. Clearly he’s going to have to speak to his father about whoever was supposed to be on sentry duty tonight, because even if it benefits Damen that there’s no one here to witness the scene, that means that the Akielon camp has likely been entirely un-guarded for the majority of the night.

The horse is slow, meandering even, and Nikandros and Damen easily outpace it as they briskly walk towards the beast and it’s rider. The closer they get the easier it is to tell that the speed of the animal is not due to exhaustion but to it’s errant rider. There’s no saddle, no stirrups, not even a set of reigns or a collar to lead it and the rider is slumped forward against the horse’s neck with their hands tangled in it’s thick mane. Most of them is hidden from view, but the feeling from yesterday rears its head and something sinks in Damen’s gut. His hand automatically goes back and rests on the pommel of his sword which is still strapped around his hips from when he first set off to look for Laurent hours ago.

“Hello?” Damen calls, ignoring Nik’s warning look in favor of frowning as the rider jerks in their seat and struggles to pull themselves into a sitting position. They manage to get upright just as the sun finally comes over the horizon and the clearing is washed in a bright gold glow but Damen’s breath catches for a completely different reason.

_“Damen.”_

Nikandros stops in his tracks at the quiet, strained, voice even from meters away but Damen doesn’t. Damen doesn’t even think. One second he’s beside Nikandros and walking towards the horse and the next he’s abreast it, one hand on the horse’s chest to stop it and the other hovering over the thigh of it’s rider. The sun turns the rider’s hair from dull straw to bright burnished gold, and even as twisted and in such a disarray as to be generously compared to a birds nest, Damen’s never seen anything quite so breathtaking.

It’s Laurent. He’s still in the outfit he’d gotten dressed in yesterday morning, though it’s torn and filthy and covered in blood. And then Laurent himself - he looks awful, to put it lightly. Damen thinks he’s seen men stabbed directly in the gut with a sword who look to be in better shape than Laurent does now. He’s worse than Damen’s ever seen him. His face is smeared with dried blood and there are clear tear tracks that have washed lines down his face. His hands are coated in flaking blood and even as tangled as they are in the horse’s mane Damen can see them shaking violently and likely not from the chill of an early spring morning. His skin is deathly pale and as soon as he meets Damen’s eyes his breathing starts hitching. He slumps suddenly in his seat on the horse and starts leaning dangerously to one side. Damen finally puts his hand down on Laurent’s thigh and brings his other up to brace against Laurent’s side.

“Whoa there, _Xenos._ ” He says softly, but Laurent doesn’t seem to be able to hear him. His breathing is still somehow speeding up, and Damen watches helplessly as Laurent’s eyes flutter shut and he completely topples off the horse. Luckily he topples towards Damen, and Damen catches him with little effort, still in shock at seeing Laurent in such a state.

“What the hell happened to you, pet?” Nikandros asks quietly from beside him, finally having taken the last few steps to greet them, but Laurent doesn’t answer. His head lolls to one side, completely limp and Damen casts another cursory glance around them.

“Laurent.” Damen tries, but Laurent doesn’t wake up and Damen holds himself back from swearing. “Take the horse, bring it to where ours are and check it over for a brand. Try to hide it behind the others though, out of the way. Tell my stable-hand not to mention it to anyone, but to take care of it as it would my own horse. I’m going to take Laurent to my tent, I’ll get him into his cloak and then I’ll need your help to bring him to his old rooms in Marlas. It’s probably the safest place we can get him right now, safer than a tent in a camp where the guards don’t take their duties seriously.” Damen starts and Nikandros nods, unbuckling his belt and looping it around the horse’s neck as a makeshift collar.

“We’ll clean him up, help him if he needs it. We’re going to have to tell Auguste we’ve found him. Fuck. I don’t know how I’m going to get him into Marlas like this. Even if there are no guards out right now, the sun is up everyone will be waking.” Damen mutters, his mind racing as he looks down at the unresponsive blond in his arms.

“Lydos.” Damen looks back up at Nikandros. “Lydos knows of some ways into Marlas that I’m pretty sure even Prince Auguste isn’t aware of.” Damen’s face twists and Nikandros lets out a short, sharp laugh. “I know. The man’s not the smartest. I’m pretty sure he _enjoys_ taunting Veretian soldiers in their own territory. Go back to your tent, I’ll deal with the horse and then grab Lydos. Hopefully he’s not passed out yet. Meet us on the far west edge of the forest, away from most of the Veretian camp. I’ll be right behind you.” Nikandros says, putting a hand on Damen’s arm fleetingly and looking down worriedly at Laurent. His eyes flicker back up to meet Damen’s and Damen tries to ignore the blatant worry there. It just makes the awful feeling in his gut feel heavier.

“I’ll see you there.” Damen confirms and Nikandros rushes off, the horse being surprisingly complacent to just be led off by a stranger. Damen looks down at Laurent once more, trying to find any clear sign as to where the blood is from. It luckily looks like it’s not Laurent’s. There’s no places on his clothes dark enough to show an actual wound. So it’s someone else’s blood. But that begs the question of who’s it is. And where the hell Laurent has been.

Damen shakes himself of his worries. He can’t afford to misstep here. He can’t afford to focus on anything but helping Laurent. Helping his husband. He pulls Laurent closer to him and turns around, heading back to his tent while scanning the horizon for potential witnesses. An uncomfortable feeling creeps up the back of his neck when he still doesn’t see a single person moving in either of the camps.

He ducks into their tent.

 

***

 

When he wakes the first thing he notices is that he’s warm. Very warm, actually. The only other time he remembers being so warm is a cold winter’s night when he was very young and he’d squished himself between Aleron and Auguste and was listening sleepily as Aleron told Auguste one of his many stories about their mother. Laurent remembers leaning heavily into Auguste’s side, and probably drooling all over his brother but Auguste never minded. Auguste had tightened his arm around Laurent and pulled him even closer into his side.

Laurent can almost feel Auguste’s arms around him now. Except..

That actually does feel like an arm tightening around him, but what--

Everything comes rushing back to him. Being kidnapped, escaping Fortaine. Somehow managing to stumble upon the only horse left in the stables and getting on it. He remembers blinking in an out of consciousness, somehow not falling off the horse, as the horse had blindly started walking along a path Laurent had no control over. Even if he’d started the horse with a direction in mind, there was no guarantee the horse had even kept going that way while he’d been passing in and out of consciousness. He’d just blindly been hoping that they were still headed south to Marlas. To Damen.

And then it reads like a fever dream. He’d made it, somehow without going directly through the Veretian camp. He’d made it do Damen. Damen had found him. He was safe again. Safe from---

“Guion!” He gasps, his eyes fluttering open and his body jolting.

“ _Hey, easy_. Easy, Laurent.” A deep voice to his left says and turns to see Damen leaning toward him. It’s Damen, he realizes, the arm that had tightened around him was Damen’s. He was sitting most upright, leaning heavily with his back mostly to Damen’s chest while Damen has an arm wrapped around him to hold him up.

“What--Where. Where am I? Where are we?” Laurent pulls his gaze away from Damen to dizzingly look around. He thinks he recognizes it, but through the double-vision it’s hard to tell.

“We’re in the rooms you had in Marlas. You came into camp about half an hour ago. Lydos helped me get you into the fort with nobody seeing, your defenses are awful by the way,” Damen says as an aside and there’s a derisive snort from Laurent’s right. Laurent turns and blinks away the fuzziness of his vision to see Auguste and for a second his heart soars for a second before he remembers that it’s not actually his brother.

“Yes. Because we’re currently in a position where I need to worry about Akielons taking siege of the fort I’m using as my base.” Auguste says dryly and Laurent turns in time to see Damen flash him a grin that’s mostly teeth but all attitude.

“How are you feeling?” Damen asks, blatantly ignoring Auguste in the room and Laurent swallows thickly.

“I. They hit me over the head. I’ve got a headache, likely a concussion.” He begins, not bothering to sit up on his own and instead leaning further into the comforting warmth of Damen at his back. “I’m rather certain where they hit me was bleeding and my ankle’s twisted.” His teeth grind together before a moment before he looks down at his lap. He startles to see the blood still on his hands.

“I. I did something.” He nearly whispers and he can feel Damen bring his other arm up to reach forward so he can rest a hand over Laurent’s.

“What did you do?” It’s Auguste who asks and Laurent can’t find it in himself to look away from his bloody hands. He pulls the left out from under Damen’s and pulls his arms in till they’re wrapped around himself.

“I was in Fortaine. The dungeons of Fortaine. He’d had me kidnapped, said he had to make it convincing for if anyone was watching. He.” Laurent swallows and struggles to keep his breathing even. Tears prick the corners of his eyes and he fights to hold them back. “He was working with Charls. With the Regent. He has been the entire time. And he mentioned someone, Audin I think, who’s also working with them.”

“Who?” Damen asks quietly but Auguste speaks before Laurent does.

“Guion. You… You said Guion’s name when you first woke up just now.” Laurent keeps his eyes on his lap, but he can hear Auguste sigh and begin walking around the room. “Of course. Originally he was just a member of the council, but somehow he became the Ambassador to Akielos and I could never figure out how. He can’t even speak Akielon. I already partially suspected Audin, but I thought Guion to be different. I see now I was wrong.”

Laurent doesn’t know he’s started shaking until Damen’s hands unravel from around him and instead come up to rub gently against his biceps. Somehow it makes it worse and the tears start falling freely. Laurent doesn’t try to wipe them away.

“You said you did something, Xenos.” Damen says softly from close to his ear and Laurent shakes his head, his throat thick.

“I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I just. I just wanted to scare him. I thought if I knocked the torch down I could make a run for it but he--He grabbed me. There was a dagger, I’d thrown it at the torch to knock it down but he’d found it in the dark and we--- We fought over it. He tried to kill me and I--I…” Laurent tries to curl in on himself, ignoring the twinging from his ankle as he knocks it against the side of the couch he and Damen are sitting on. Damen’s hands slowly slide along his arms and he gently pries Laurent’s arms away from himself so he can hold both of Laurent’s hands in his own.

“Laurent. It’s okay.”

Laurent shakes his head and fights to hold back the sobs that want to come out. He doesn’t know where they’re coming from. He’s dealt with things worse than this. He’s seen hundreds of people die before and he didn’t even actually see Guion die but--- but he felt it. He heard it.

He heard as Guion choked on the blood that was suddenly rushing down his airpipe, he’d felt the crunch of his trachea as he’d managed to wrestle the dagger out of Guion’s grip and slam it into his neck. He could feel the warm gush of blood over his fingers in the dark before he’d dropped the dagger and ran, his heart in his throat and the sound of his blood pumping in his ears.

“I killed him.” He whispers and he notes that his hands are shaking inside Damen’s. He’s trying to breathe but it feels like there’s not enough air in the world to fill his lungs. His skin looks too pale, deathly pale, beside the dark ochre of Damen’s. He feels like he’s going to vomit again, but he knows there’s nothing left in him that can come out. He wants to push away from Damen, so Damen’s no longer touching him but he feels as if he can hardly even lift a finger. It’s…

Shock.

He realizes belatedly. He’s in shock.

“It’s alright, Laurent.” This time it’s Auguste who says it. And somehow he’s managed to make his way around the room and now he’s squatting in front of Laurent and Damen, trying to catch Laurent’s eye.

“No it’s not. I killed him.” He snaps and there’s a knock at the door. All three of them turn to look up as Jord peeks around the door.

“The bath is ready in the chamber, your majesty.”

“Thank you, Jord. Can you manage to round up a pair of fresh clothes for Laurent as well?” Auguste asks, his voice soft and calm and Jord nods before closing the door. Auguste turns back around to face Laurent.

“I’ll go check on the food,” Auguste casts a quick glance up at Damen behind Laurent before looking back at Laurent. “I’ve also got to dismiss the meetings for today seeing as neither Damen nor I will be there. I… I’ll talk to you later _little brother_.” Auguste says thickly in Veretian, leaning up just far enough to place a kiss on Laurent’s forehead. One of Auguste’s hands comes up to brush a stray piece of hair behind Laurent’s ear.

“ _But.. But I’m not_ …” Laurent stutters back in Veretian and Auguste gives him a watery smile.

“You are. In some way you are my little brother and I… I thought you’d left, gone back home, travelled through the stones, but Damen didn’t think so. He spent the whole night out looking for you and I-- I didn’t. I’m so sorry, Laurent. I didn’t help you last night but I’m going to help you now. We can post-pone the meetings for a day. Damen’s going to help you get cleaned up and changed, and then I’m bringing up some food for if you get hungry, okay?”

Laurent manages a small nod and Auguste gives one back before he stands and goes for the door. He opens it just enough to be able to slip through, but not enough for anyone in the hallway to get a good look inside. He stops before he leaves. Pausing as if to say something. But he must decide better of it because he ducks out of the room without another word.

“I don’t understand.” Laurent says into the ensuing silence and then suddenly he’s moving as Damen shuffles out from behind him so that they’re sitting side by side. “Damen, I. _I killed someone._ Why aren’t either of you _freaking out_?” Laurent hisses only to go silent as Damen reaches forward and cups Laurent’s face between his warm palms.

“I’m a Prince of Akielos, _Xenos_ , you know this. But you know I’m also a soldier. I’m practically a soldier first, right now, and a prince second. I know what it is, when there’s needless death just for the entertainment of some faceless monster in a man’s skin. That? That’s cruelty. And you? You’re not cruel. You’re kind, and you’re not a faceless monster. I can see you. I can see you so clearly it almost hurts sometimes.” Damen shakes his head. His eyes are soft and they’re locked with Laurent’s. “What you did? That was self-defence, and it probably feels awful but you’re here now because of it. It was necessary. Laurent I-- When we first heard you weren’t here I almost started losing my mind right then and there. I sat through dinner where I had to pretend like nothing was wrong but you, _my husband,_ were missing and the last time I’d seen you was this morning. I gave you an oath that I would protect you with everything I am, and I wasn’t able to keep it.” Laurent frowns as he sees Damen’s eyes get shiny with tears.

“Damen.” He whispers.

“Married all of two weeks and already you’ve been hurt and you’ve had to do something terrible and I couldn’t be there to help you. There is nothing for me to freak out over or forgive because you haven’t done anything wrong, Laurent. I have. I failed you, and for that I’m endlessly sorry. I’d take all this pain you’re feeling into myself if I could so you wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Laurent watches as the tears stream unashamedly down Damen’s face and he brings his shaking hands up to cover Damen’s on his cheeks. He shakes his head, a frown pulling at his features.

“No. Absolutely not. Damianos you have not failed me. You got me into Marlas with no one seeing. You’ve kept the entire plan on track. Auguste said you spent the night searching for me that--- There was no way you could have known I was up in Fortaine. There was no way you knew what was going on with Guion - we were all blindsided. You can’t blame yourself for this.” He whispers fervently and Damen helplessly shrugs.

“Then what can I do to help you now? What do you need?”

That’s the question, isn’t it. Laurent isn’t sure what he needs. Not right now. He’s not sure what he’s going to need in the future either, but… He knows what he _wants_. Right now, at least.

“I just need you.” He turns his head so his lips are against one of Damen’s palms and his eyes fall closed. “I don’t--You make me feel safe.” He opens his eyes to catch Damen’s. “Help me feel safe. Help me forget, if only for a moment.” He murmurs and Damen’s expression softens. Damen leans forward to rest their foreheads together.

“Anything.”

Damen carries him from the outer chamber into the bedchamber where a large tub has been brought in and filled to the brim with steaming water to save his ankle. He gently deposits Laurent so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed before slowly unlacing Laurent from his clothes. It’s a far simpler outfit than the one he was wearing the last time he was in this room with Damen, and Laurent watches silently as the sun shines in through the window and reflects off the water in the bath.

When his outer shirt is unlaced and pulled off Damen kneels down to untie his boots and pluck them from his feet, being so incredibly gentle that Laurent only hisses once as the left one is taken off. His foot is swollen and there’s dark purple bruises on either side of his heels that go from a deep plum to an angry mauve before fading. He’s going to have to find something to wrap it with, maybe even something to use as a crutch.

“How am I going to explain this when people ask.” He mumbles to himself and Damen looks up at him from between his legs.

“Riding accident. You didn’t realize how far you’d gone until it got dark and on your way back your horse spooked and bucked you.” Laurent’s head tilts to one side consideringly.

“You’ve been thinking about this.” Laurent accuses and Damen leans up so his head is closer to Laurent’s.

“Since I first saw you on that horse this morning.” One of Damen’s hands comes up and his thumb travels along Laurent’s cheekbone where it’s tender. He’s probably got a bruise. Guion had managed to get in a few good hits, even as blind as they both were in the darkness. Damen’s eyes look haunted in the morning light and Laurent wants to make that look go away. It reminds him too much of how he’s feeling right now. What he’s done.

 _“Kiss me._ ” He says in Akielon and Damen gives him a considering look.

“ _As you wish, love._ ”  

Damen’s gentle. Soft. His lips are slightly chapped, probably from him biting them worriedly throughout the night, but they’re also warm and something tangible that Laurent can feel. Laurent’s arms wrap around Damen’s neck and pull him in closer, even kneeling on the floor as he is Damen’s head is only a few inches shorter than Laurent’s with Laurent sitting on the bed. Damen’s hand is still on his face but his other comes up till it’s resting, palm down, over Laurent’s heart. It’s Damen who pulls away from the soft kiss, but he stays close. Their noses brush against each other. Damen’s eyes are still closed. Laurent can feel Damen’s eyebrows furrow against his forehead.

“I thought.. I didn’t want to think that you’d left. Not without at least saying goodbye.” He whispers and Laurent lets his arms fall from Damen’s neck so he can put both over the one hand Damen’s got on his chest.

“Absolutely not. I’d never leave you like that.” Damen’s eyes are still closed. “ _Damianos._ ” he whispers back and Damen’s eyes flutter open. Laurent gets lost in their warmth for a moment. “I made you a promise.” He shakes his head, a small smile curling just the edges of his lips. “I don’t break my promises, soldier.”

Laurent lifts one hand to put it on Damen’s chest so they mirror each other and they sit like that just looking at each other. Damen’s heart is steady under his palm, strong. Laurent can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath he takes and even through his chiton Laurent can feel how much heat he’s emanating. He leans forward and puts his head where his hand is. He can hear Damen’s heart speed up for a moment and he helplessly smiles, looking down at where their joined hands fell in his movement. His hand is red.

He’d… Forgotten. For a second. He swallows thickly before sitting back up and looking at Damen. He gives Damen’s hand a small squeeze.

“Attend me.” He whispers. An echo of their wedding night.

And Damen does.


End file.
